Silver Leaves
by thiswordistooshort
Summary: 'Life' is already difficult as an Undead, an elf, and a sorcerer-never mind all three. And now, after centuries of solitude, Lorelai must come to grips with the necessity of disguise, friendship, and maybe even love. And, of course, the responsibility to keep these mortals from abusing their undeserved authority. (M for some language and strong sexual implications)
1. Pointing Fingers

_why, hello! uhh, here's a story that i've had for forever. i'm still workin on my other stories, by the by, but i solve writer's block by writing other stories until i get writer's block for them and go back to my other stories blah dee blah. okay, have fun._

* * *

Prologue: Pointing Fingers

* * *

It was the bloody dog's fault.

Lorelai adored dogs, she truly did, but recent experiences were beginning to inspire a grudge in her.

Yesterday, Lorelai had been minding her own business, wandering aimlessly through the forest as was her custom.

Then, she had heard a dog bark.

She had heard a dog bark and had not been able to help herself. She loved animals, after all, and they usually had more interesting things to say than most civilized folk. So, she had changed direction. She had stepped out of the edge of the forest and onto the civilized road like a proper, civilized elf with not a single uncivilized bone in her civilized body.

That was Lorelai's mistake. She should have stayed in the bloody forest.

_"Source!" _she heard the dog bark again with a furious tone.

Worried that the poor thing was in danger, Lorelai picked up her pace, determined to save the innocent creature, and rounded the nearby bend in record time. She barely managed to keep her hood up with the wind blowing against her but was grateful she did, as the dog was not alone. Looking around were three red-robed humans, and civilized folk such as them usually did not take well to her kind.

Lorelai finally caught sight of the dog, a large, muscular fellow with a crossbow strapped to his back. While Lorelai stared, wondering how the dog could possibly shoot a crossbow, she heard a deep, ferocious growl.

_"Found the sorcerer,"_ the dog said, dark satisfaction in its tone as it fixed his hungry gaze on her.

"Hello, sir," Lorelai greeted him amicably, knowing he could understand her words. She was unfazed by the pure hatred pouring from the creature, as there was hardly an animal that she had not managed to befriend using perseverance and a healthy amount of table scraps. "I do apologize for startling you."

"That's the sorcerer!" one of the magisters yelled, and Lorelai jolted with surprise. Her distraction with the dog had caused her to ignore the humans completely, and she looked up to find them aggressively pointing weapons at her.

Lorelai furrowed her nonexistent brows, then instinctively raised a hand to check if her hood had fallen back.

"Stop right there!" the magister ordered.

Lorelai obediently froze. A glance upwards told her that her hood was affixed properly, so she wondered what she had done to incur such exaggerated ire.

By order of Divine Alexander," the magister continued, "you are under arrest for practicing sorcery. If you come quietly, you shall be cured rather than executed."

Lorelai tilted her head to the side, one arm still half-raised. "I did not use any Source," she informed them confusedly. "I did not harm anyone. You have mistaken me for someone else."

"My hound can sniff out you wretched sorcerers from a mile away," the magister boasted.

"You must be very clever, then," Lorelai complimented the dog.

"_Sorcerer!__"_ was the dog's unsurprising reply. _"Sorcerer bad!"_

"What in the hells are you doing?" the magister snapped at Lorelai, drawing her attention back to him.

"Oh, I apologize," she said humbly. "I did not mean to exclude you from the conversation. May I ask, though, what exactly I have done that would constitute my arrest?"

"You're a sorcerer!" the magister yelled.

"Oh, and that is illegal now?" she asked sardonically

To her shock, however, the magisters all nodded vehemently. "Very much so," the magister growled. "Now, put your hands down nice and easy."

Lorelai balked as two magisters advanced on her, the third keeping his crossbow trained on her. She had not been in a civilized area in a long time and had spent that time hearing nothing of local gossip. It was not too much of a surprise she had missed this news, yet it was terribly inconvenient. She thoughtfully weighed her options, relented, and allowed herself to be arrested without complaint. Perhaps no harm would come of it.

And now, here she was, stuck in the hold of a ship on its way to some sort of prison camp, a collar around her neck which glittered so brightly that it hurt her nonexistent eyes, and no Source to speak of.

She blamed the bloody dog.


	2. Elven Wisdom

1\. Elven Wisdom

* * *

There were only three elves on the ship. Ifan had not expected many, as most of the elves were lying in mass graves or avoided humans. He had, though, expected more than _three_. It was a shame, too, as he had been hoping for some interesting conversation. Unfortunately, all three were rather standoffish.

The first was a man, his nose buried in a book, who had not taken kindly to interruption from his reading. The second was a woman who was rolling dice alone, and she exuded such a sinister aura that Ifan had not even dared approach. The third elf, however, was the most mysterious of all.

Ifan could not be sure of this one's gender or whether it was an elf at all, as it was covered head to toe by a green cloak, the rest of its body wrapped in dark cloth. Its hood was up, concealing its face, but it paced in the graceful and elegant manner that most elves shared. Furthering Ifan's hypothesis, the person stood taller than the humans yet had a waifish figure amid the swishing cloak. This elf was somewhat separated from the rest of the sorcerers, walking in large, slow circles while it looked to be talking animatedly to the air. It waved its gloved hands about as it did so, its hooded head bobbing as it spoke to nothing.

Perhaps the other two were standoffish, but this elf was just plain batshit, Ifan decided. He was sitting at the bar and sipping a dark ale, his stool turned slightly so that he could keep the elf in sight. He wanted to watch it, suspicious it was the murderer aboard this ship, but the elf paid no attention to any other of the ship's occupants.

After a few minutes, the elf turned abruptly and strode straight towards Ifan. Ifan almost dropped his drink, certain the elf had noticed his scrutiny, but it did not give him a single glance, only halting beside him and leaning forward against the counter on its elbows. Ifan watched out of the corner of his eye as it waved over the lizard who was tending the bar.

"Need something?" the lizard asked as she approached, wiping her talons with a stained dishrag.

"Just some scraps," the elf said. "Whatever you are intending to throw away."

Ifan took a thoughtful sip of his ale. The elf was certainly a woman based on her voice. Though muffled as if covered with a veil, it was low, slightly raspy, and surprisingly friendly. The woman's body language was relaxed, and she waited without a single hint of impatience. There was something about her stance, though, that bothered Ifan, yet he could not place it.

"You," a haughty voice called out.

The elf did not move, but Ifan turned to see a red lizard striding towards them, its eyes fixed on the woman. This lizard had been wandering the ship all day, ordering people to perform various tasks for him and oblivious to everyone's annoyance. Watching him had been Ifan's main source of entertainment so far, and he wondered how the mysterious elf would react to him.

"You!" the lizard snapped more aggressively, his arms crossed as he stood behind the elf imperiously.

The elf either only just noticed the lizard or had been ignoring him—it was impossible to tell without seeing her face—since she looked from side to side for the voice. Finally, she spotted the lizard and turned around fully. She pointed to herself and tilted her head to the side questioningly.

"Yes, you," the lizard said. He reached forwards as though to grasp her face, but the elf skittered away before he could lay a claw on her.

"Gracious, that was rather forward of you," the elf said, now a respectable distance from the lizard. She sounded more confused than disapproving.

"Stay still and allow me to inspect you," the lizard ordered.

"I doubt I am the person for whom you are searching," she said with a hint of amusement entering her voice, "but I do not blame you for mistaking me. I have been told that I just have… one of those faces." She raised a delicate hand to her face as her body shook with quiet chuckles.

"No, no," the lizard said dismissively, now looking considerably disgruntled. "I need to see your teeth. A proper slave should have healthy teeth."

"Let me assure you," the elf said gravely, "that I have absolutely stunning teeth. Anyone who sees me compliments my beautifully bleached grin."

"Good..." the lizard said as he tapped his chin. "Your manners are rather lacking, but one can always be trained..."

Ifan tried to judge the elf's reaction to that, but nothing was discernable under that outfit. He wondered that was the reason the elf dressed in such a manner, to hide her reactions—or perhaps she had a recognizable face. Both options merited caution.

"Now tell me," the lizard continued, "are you proficient in the culinary arts? Do you have exquisite taste fit for a prince—nay, a king?"

"Oh, absolutely," the elf said dryly. "My sense of taste is _very_ discerning."

"Hm," the lizard mused. "That is encouraging. How about your needlework? Can you mend clothes and spin yarn? How is your taste in dress?"

The elf was silent for a long moment, and Ifan wanted desperately to know what she was thinking. Finally, the elf glanced down, staring at her plain, worn cloak, then looked back at the lizard.

"I assure you," she said in a tone so serious that it had to be sarcastic, "such shrouds are the height of fashion where I come from."

The lizard looked suspicious at the answer, but eventually relented. "Lastly, do you have a sense of hygiene? When did you last bathe?"

"Oh, quite a curious fellow, yes? Well, I almost fell into the ocean when I got onto the ship," the elf offered. "Does that suffice?"

The lizard leaned in closer, his nostrils flaring, and the elf tilted her head away as he breathed deeply. "You have very little scent," the lizard commented. "I suppose that is adequate." He looked the elf up and down, then nodded at her sharply. "Perhaps you are not ideal, but you are the most promising candidate for my slave. You will suffice until I can acquire a properly trained one."

"I suppose I can agree," the elf said as she reached a hand onto the bar to gather up the scraps of stale bread, cheese, and meat the bartender had scrounged together. None of it looked the least bit appetizing. "I am always searching for new ways to adorn myself."

"Pardon me?" the lizard asked, appalled. "How do you mean?"

The elf used her free hand to tug at her cloak. "Red and green are complementary," she explained, nodding to his scarlet scales. "I shall look dazzling with you by my side." Without another word, the elf crossed the room and returned to her corner.

The lizard looked uncertain, as though he did not understand whether the elf's comment was a compliment or derision. After only a moment, however, the lizard began to berate the bartender for her tasteless meals. Ifan eyed the elf's corner to see her sit down delicately. She opened her hand, then tugged at the neckline of her cloak. Without hesitation, she dropped the handful of food down the front of her clothes.

Ifan wondered if he had misjudged her. He would not change his opinion that she was batshit, but perhaps a different kind of batshit than he had originally suspected—more whimsical than malicious.

Well, only one way to find out.

After the woman's amicable bearing towards the lizard, Ifan felt comfortable approaching her. She was talking quietly to the air again, however, so Ifan chose a meandering, indirect route to her corner, hoping to overhear her words before she took notice of him.

"—those dangerously mysterious women," the elf was saying when Ifan grew close enough to listen in. There was a pause during which Ifan wondered if she had noticed him, but the elf did not turn to face him. She snorted after a moment. "What do you propose I do? Mingle?" she scoffed. "I am terrible at such things."

A short silence ensued.

"Not everyone is so easily sated as you, my friend," she said.

Another pause.

"I suppose, though, it would appear less suspicious if I—pardon?" She cut off mid-sentence and turned her head, her shrouded face pointed straight at Ifan. This time, Ifan was certain she noticed him, but she turned away after no more than a second. "My apologies for doubting you," she whispered to nothing.

Ifan's cheeks crinkled up into a smile as he finished his stroll. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to the ground beside her.

The elf did not stand or even tilt her head up to look at him. "Please," she replied graciously, so he took a seat against the wall. He did not miss how she slid away from him, making sure there was at least an arm's length of space between them. "Feel free to join in on dinner," she added.

"Don't mind if I do," Ifan said even though neither of them had food. "Shame to see someone all alone in this sort of place," he commented when she remained silent.

"I have two responses to your statement," she instantly said. She was still looking straight ahead, so he could only see the side of her hood. "First of all, it is quite presumptuous of you to assume that I am alone."

Ifan chuckled but studied her out of the corner of his eye, trying to determine if he should be worried for his safety. "I'm not presuming anything," Ifan replied once it became clear she had nothing more to say. "Looks like you're alone to me, though."

The elf nodded her head agreeably. "Second," she continued, "in what sort of place is it not a shame to be all alone?"

"Oh, lots of places," Ifan laughed. "The privy for one. The forest too."

"I have three responses for that," she said, then lifted the hand closest to him. She ticked off three thin fingers as she went along. "First, I would agree with the privy statement. Second, I would disagree with the forest statement. Third, I will add an exception to my agreement with the privy statement in the case that the forest _is_ the privy." The woman shifted slightly while Ifan parsed through her strangely structured reply. "I ought to clarify," she added, "that I do not limit my definition of company to that of persons. There are many far more amicable creatures."

Intrigued, Ifan turned his head to face her fully. "I'll agree that animals make good company in a forest," he humored her. "I'll add my own exception, though, to one of those big cave bears. Spiders too."

"Cave bears and spiders can make delightful conversation," the woman disagreed, waving a gloved hand dismissively as she did so. "Most animals do. The sheep below and I got along just swimmingly." The woman abruptly glanced down, and Ifan heard it: a muffled squeaking noise accompanied by some skittering. "I do appreciate you," she stated. "You are the one who did not appreciate my brilliant humor."

"...Looks like I was wrong," Ifan said with a wide grin as he watched the hooded elf. "You _do_ have company, eh? Introductions might be the next step."

"…Pardon?" The elf finally turned her head towards him, but her hood was lowered enough that her entire face was cast in shadow, her features indiscernible even in close quarters. "Oh, how terribly rude of me!" she cried. "My name is Lorelai."

"Ifan ben-Mezd," Ifan replied. He held out his hand to shake. "A pleasure."

Lorelai made no move to return the gesture, but the awkwardness of the moment broke when a louder squeak drew her attention back to her clothing. "Oh, if you wish," she sighed, then tugged at the front of her cloak, creating an opening through which a small rodent poked its head. The rodent, a common rat by the looks of it, fixed Ifan with beady eyes and squeaked loudly. "This is Saucepan," Lorelai said, pointing to the rat. She stroked it between the ears with one finger, and it arced its neck delightedly.

"…Saucepan?" Ifan repeated, bemused. "Quite the name."

"Thank you," Lorelai said, sounding honestly pleased. "I found him climbing about a saucepan and decided it suited him rather well." The rat squeaked, then ducked its head back into her cloak. As Ifan hoped no one was cooking with that particular saucepan, Lorelai turned back to him. "I offered to find him some dinner if he would keep me entertained during this tedious journey," she explained.

"You know, some of our fellow prisoners are rather entertaining," he replied. "You might have some luck there."

"Alas, I have little luck with people," Lorelai sighed with a dramatic flick of her wrist. "Everyone wants to get into my clothes. Unfortunately in a non-sexual manner."

"Mystery has its allure," Ifan acknowledged. He was suffering from the same curiosity himself, after all.

"I told you so," Lorelai said smugly, addressing her neckline. "Dangerously mysterious women are all the rage nowadays." There was a soft squeak that inspired a small chuckle from Lorelai. "I am certain you will find your Mrs. Right someday, Saucepan. I could help you look, if you would like." Another squeak heralded Saucepan's reply. "I concede your point," Lorelai mused, "but there is no shame in enlisting another's aid."

Ifan waited patiently for the elf's side conversation to finish. He could guess at the general topic from Lorelai's responses, but he still wished he could understand the exact words. He had never met someone with the ability to speak in Animal Tongue, but he had heard of the power's existence. He wondered if it was something learned or innate.

"I do apologize for excluding you," Lorelai abruptly said, her head raised but again faced away from Ifan. "I tend to forget that others cannot converse with animals like—" Suddenly, she gasped and held a hand up to her face. "Goodness, I must look bloody insane," she realized. "I have not been around people in so long… They must all think I am speaking to the air!"

"Ah, you just noticed that?" Ifan marveled. "I'll admit you look a bit odd."

"…It hardly matters, I suppose," Lorelai dismissed. "It heightens the air of mystery, does it not?"

"Sure does."

Lorelai once again turned her face towards him. "Now that I have babbled incessantly about myself," she said cheerfully, "you ought to return the favor."

"As long as you keep that hood up," Ifan countered, "you have more secrets than me."

"I must disagree! A man of mystery is just as alluring as a woman," she said with a laugh. "I can only assume that your intention is to seduce me."

Ifan felt his face heat up at the elf's complete lack of subtlety, and he wished for the umpteenth time that he could read her expression. It was strange, conversing with someone who seemed so friendly without being able to see her face. Most hooded figures acted far more sinister.

The ship jolted from a wave, and Lorelai doubled over with a hiss of discomfort. "Oh, I should have stayed in the bloody forest," she lamented. "I simply abhor water travel. How I can even _get_ nauseous without the proper facilities is a mystery, yet I somehow…" She trailed off, cleared her throat, and sat up straight again. "I have been isolated for _far_ too long," she muttered. "Gracious, if I cannot stop speaking aloud, then—" She clapped a hand against her forehead and shook her head back and forth. "If I keep going on like this," she said, gesturing towards Ifan to indicate she was addressing him, "then I shall not be alluring for long."

Ifan smirked and crossed his arms, glad that he had at least one advantage over her: He knew how to keep his mouth shut.

The ship lurched, and Lorelai tipped forward again, both hands crossed to her stomach. Ifan looked around desperately for a bucket, a cooking pot, anything to catch what was likely to be a deluge of vomit. "I want to bloody die," she moaned, then burst out into a peal of laughter. "What a silly thing to say," she snickered. "Thank the gods I cannot vomit either…"

Hit with an odd suspicion, Ifan impulsively reached to the side and snatched one of her gloved hands in a tight grip. Sure enough, he felt only bone uncushioned by flesh. He drew his arm back as Lorelai froze. When Ifan remained silent, marveling that he was in the presence of an Undead, Lorelai sighed heavily and lifted her head.

"_This_ is why I live in the bloody forests," she muttered. "I cannot keep a secret for the life of me." At that, she laughed again. "_Life_ of me. Gods, I am incorrigible…" She turned towards Ifan and pulled her hood back slightly to reveal two empty eye sockets, the bottom half of a shadowed skull covered by an opaque veil. "Well?" she inquired, allowing the hood to fall again. "Is being living-impaired better or worse than being a suspicious ne'er-do-well or ravaged by a horrific skin plague?"

"I'm not a fan of plagues," Ifan said, realizing Lorelai likely thought he was contemplating destroying her, "but it'd be hypocritical of me to hate ne'er-do-wells. As for being dead, it's hardly my business."

"And thus my air of mystery dissipates," Lorelai grumbled, but Ifan could hear the relief in her tone. "Gah, I really should not make so many jokes and stupid, stupid puns about being dead-but-not, yet I simply cannot _help_ myself. It is likely my fatal flaw." She laughed again, then sighed heavily. "I always insinuate such morbid things and end up making civilized folk suspicious enough to stab me to see if I bleed," she mourned. "No one suspects a thing if I keep my jaw shut. Otherwise, I am simply… _boned_." She laughed.

"Don't hold back on my account," Ifan said, amused himself. "I'll admit, though, that—"

"Shh," Lorelai suddenly hushed him, and he saw her hunch her shoulders and gaze at the floor.

Ifan looked around and noticed a magister striding towards their corner. When the magister grew closer, Ifan grinned in feral anticipation. He pulled himself to his feet and leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed.


	3. A Little Eccentricity

2\. A Little Eccentricity

* * *

"I've been looking for you," the magister growled to Ifan, his hand on his sword. "I should've known you would be skulking in the shadows. I need to ask you some questions about the murderer onboard."

"Vik!" Ifan called out cheerfully, a sharp-toothed grin on his face. "Long time no see. Not long enough, I'll wager."

"Enough, sorcerer," the magister snapped. "I know you're the murderer. Confess."

"Who did I kill this time, Vik?" Ifan asked wryly. "If you keep trying to pin these things onto me, someone will notice a pattern."

"The sorcerer, Finn," the magister prodded him. "You murdered him!"

"I wouldn't kill anyone without a reason," Ifan said exasperatedly. He did not cast one look at Lorelai, as though pretending she was not there. Lorelai did not appreciate being removed from the conversation.

"You two know each other?" Lorelai piped up, and Ifan flicked his eyes to her for a moment, his expression indiscernible. Lorelai hoped he did not think her presumptuous.

"I was Viktar's commander many years ago," Ifan explained without moving his smirk from the magister. He seemed more tense, however, and Lorelai wondered why. "He made leaving much, much easier."

"Ooh, some secrets are revealed," Lorelai said delightedly, then pointed to Viktar. "Ifan's not the murderer, you know," she informed the magister before he could continue to blame poor Ifan.

"Is that an admission of guilt, elf?" Viktar snarled, all his fury now aimed at Lorelai.

"Pardon?" she scoffed "Not in the least, human." Lorelai inclined her head to Ifan and waved a covered hand. "He is simply not an old woman."

"What in the hells is that supposed to mean?" Viktar retorted with unnecessary aggression.

"Go ask that magister staring at the poor bugger's corpse," Lorelai responded calmly. "I munched on some of Finn's arm. An old lady murdered him, and Ifan is not an old lady as far as I can tell. Who knows, though," she added humorously. "My eyes are… not what they used to be."

A laugh burst from Ifan's throat, but he quickly turned it into a cough before Viktar could wonder what was so funny. Viktar, however, was too busy looking at Lorelai in disgust to notice.

"You elves are all disgusting cannibals," Viktar replied, his abhorrence clear in his voice. "I'll bet you killed him just to eat him, isn't that right? Now, you blame some old woman that doesn't exist." His lip curled, and he leaned towards her with every muscle tensed as though to attack.

"I have two responses to that," Lorelai replied primly, just a tad unnerved by his look of imminent violence. "First, as I am an elf, eating a human could hardly be called cannibalism, yes? Second, I could hardly eat an entire man." Lorelai paused and smiled internally. "My stomach is simply not substantial enough for such a thing."

Viktar looked between her and Ifan, suspicion and disdain clear in his face. "And what's your name, elf?"

"Don't mind him," Ifan said airily. "He just has a bee in his bonnet. Me."

"Are you the bee or the bonnet?" Lorelai asked.

Ifan chuckled, but his reply was interrupted by Viktar yelling, "Name!"

"Viktar, was it?" Lorelai asked him instead.

"Unfortunately," Ifan replied, now stealing a reply from Vikar.

"And how is that spelled?"

"V-I-K-T-A-R."

"Right then. I am Ratkiv," she decided as she waved a hand at Viktar. "R-A-T-K-I-V. 'Rat' for short. Ask anyone you know, and I am certain they will corroborate my claim."

Viktar curled his lip and scrawled something down into a notebook. This was not looking good for Lorelai, and she cursed her inability to remain silent. Viktar would remember her, probably seek her out, ask around about her. This was a reckless conversation.

"Leave now, elf," Viktar ordered her.

"What, you will not call me by my name, human?" Lorelai asked with exaggerated offense, unable to help herself. "Deary me, I thought we were friends! I did solve your murder case for you, after all. You can now take a break, play some cards, get drunk off power—pardon me, I meant beer."

"You'd better head off, Rat," Ifan said with clear warning in his tone. "This one's got a little grudge against me that he might hold against you."

Lorelai was silent for a few seconds, aware that Ifan was hinting that she should leave before she got herself in trouble. She was at loathe to leave Ifan to face the magister alone, but she knew she had run her mouth off far too much already. Being under the scrutiny of a magister was a very bad idea for her as an elf, a sorcerer, and—most importantly—an Undead. The first would cause her to be disliked, the second arrested, and the third killed. It was terribly inconvenient for her to exist in the current social climate.

Ifan, on the other hand, had not minded her being Undead, which was both a relief and a surprise. It made Lorelai hopeful that she could find others who had the same indifference. It was no reason to let her guard down, of course, though she doubted she would be able to.

Lorelai nodded in response to Ifan and stood up, swaying slightly on her feet as she felt the ship hit a wave. She turned so that she was facing Ifan from the side. "I really want to file my teeth like yours," she told him in a whisper. "After all, I am always searching for new ways to adorn myself." She patted him once on the shoulder, and Ifan shuddered nearly imperceptibly.

"Hey, what are you two scheming over there?" Viktar shouted, his sword now partially drawn.

"Whom to kill next, of course," Lorelai said as she slipped past him. "We _are_ malicious sorcerers after all."

Viktar watched her go, his face contorted into a snarl, until Ifan cleared his throat. "You were accusing me of murder?" he reminded Viktar, instantly snatching back the magister's attention. Lorelai mentally wished Ifan luck.

_"I smell mate!"_ Saucepan squeaked from his perch inside her ribcage. _"In food room! Hurry!"_

Lorelai smiled to herself and changed trajectory towards the larder. She had found Saucepan outside the room, scrabbling across the hanging pots and pans and searching for a way inside. Lorelai made sure no one was looking, then quickly removed her gloves, picking the lock with two fingers she had long ago whittled into sharp points for this purpose exactly. The moment she heard a click, she slipped inside and closed the door behind her while she tugged her gloves back on.

She felt Saucepan climbing her ribs before scrambling up her collarbone and onto her shoulder. It was always a disconcerting sensation, having an animal use her bones as a ladder, but she was well used to it, as she had housed many a small creature inside her cloak. In fact, she had a small cloth hammock tied between two ribs where the animals could sit.

Lorelai looked around the larder, casually snatching a pair of carving knives discarded on a table. She disliked using weapons, but magic was far less subtle and sapped her energy, even more so with this Source collar. Lorelai pulled out the pack hidden underneath her cloak and tucked them inside. She had taken this pack long ago from the necromancer who had reanimated her bones, and it was enchanted to hold just about anything. No matter how far she reached into it, she could never find the bottom. She had once tried to peek inside, only to have it decide that it was in fact a bag and refuse to allow her to fit. The moment she had removed her head, it had returned to being a bottomless pit.

Now that Saucepan was no longer hitching a ride, Lorelai hung the pack inside her ribcage, about where her heart would have been. Many centuries ago, she had cut a hole in her ribcage to allow her to store items inside and had affixed a pair of antlers to her spine that curled around her nonexistent lungs as a sort of coat rack. It was a very convenient arrangement, and she gave the pack a loving pat before pulling her cloak shut again.

She thanked the gods that it had not been taken from her when she was arrested. The magisters who had captured her had only given her a cursory once-over after she convinced them that she was plagued, hoping correctly that they would not risk catching an infectious disease. Once they decided that Lorelai had no weapons on her person, they had satisfied themselves with cuffing her and ushering her into a cage with other sorcerers to be taken to this Fort Joy.

Lorelai determined she ought to escape before she was 'cured of Source,' as the magisters had so tastefully put it. Even though she rarely used her full powers, she did not wish to lose any of it. It was true that she was by no means helpless without Source; she could fight, was incredibly difficult to kill, and had magic that did not use Source, but it was the principle of the thing. No one had the right to imprison and rob her.

Soon, Lorelai heard a series of happy squeaks as Saucepan found a female rat munching through a sack of grain. Lorelai winced at the overtly sexual sounds that followed and decided it was time to take her leave. If Saucepan wished to spend more time with her, then he could find her. He was no pet beholden to her, and Lorelai would not treat him as such.

Lorelai exited the larder carefully and decided to take Ifan's advice to find entertainment among her fellow sorcerers. Her conversations with Ifan and the magister proved that Lorelai could not be trusted to keep her chatty jaw shut, so she dared not speak to anyone. Instead, she simply wandered the hold, listening to the others interact and pretending not to notice the furtive, suspicious glances tossed her way. She learned little of use but did manage to speed through an hour.

"You. Pretty thing," a voice drawled from nearby. Lorelai was unused to people calling out to her, enough that she had been surprised by both the lizard and Ifan. Hoping to avoid making the same mistake, Lorelai looked around and immediately spotted an elf smirking at her from a table nearby.

"Are you addressing me?" Lorelai asked just in case, and the elf chuckled darkly.

"Tell me, darling," she said. "Why have you passed me by seven times in the last hour? I do appreciate the attention, but a girl can get the wrong idea after a while."

"Oh!" Lorelai gasped. If she had skin, she would have been burning with embarrassment. "I do apologize! I meant no ill will, I assure you. I was simply attempting to pass the time by circling the ship. I will refrain from walking by you if you prefer."

The elf smirked and held up a pair of dice. "Good to hear," she replied. "I was just starting to wonder if I should roll for your life."

"My life?" Lorelai laughed. "Please, feel free," she said cheerfully. "I would be very interested in the result."

The elf raised a thin brow but tossed her dice onto the table. Lorelai approached to see the outcome. "Double doubles," the elf mused. She grinned and snatched her dice again. "Lucky, lucky girl, aren't you…? Let us hope your luck doesn't change."

"Me?" Lorelai repeated, baffled. "Lucky? Goodness, I cannot imagine how much worse off I would be if I were unlucky, then!"

"Oh, you can _always_ be worse off, darling," the elf said grimly. "Tell me, do you believe in fate?"

"How do you mean? A destiny set in stone, or one's expected demise?"

"Either," the elf returned, tossing her dice again. "Both."

"I do not believe the future or present to be set in stone," Lorelai admitted, "but I can hardly be sure of that. On the other hand, I do believe circumstances of birth and the like often put people on a nearly immutable path that could be called fate. A peasant's son, for example, is fated to be a peasant as well unless extraordinary events occur."

"Hm," the elf mused. "I'll have to keep an eye out for extraordinary events, then. I wouldn't want something to change the fates I have decided."

"I wish you luck on your endeavors," Lorelai said kindly. The elf seemed rather intense, even dangerous, but that was no reason to be rude.

The elf gave Lorelai a thin smile. "Luck, darling, is for the unskilled," she said.

"With my roll, that could be taken as an insult," Lorelai laughed.

The elf inspected Lorelai up and down for a moment, then grinned fully. "You mistake me, dear. I mean that _relying_ on luck is for the unskilled. You yourself seem rather talented." She winked at Lorelai. "I have an eye for such things." With that, she threw her dice again, murmuring to herself, and did not spare Lorelai another glance.

Lorelai felt uncomfortable standing there without being spoken to, so she returned to her aimless wanderings. She glanced over at Ifan every once and a while, but the magister was always still there. Ifan looked relaxed, even smug, the entire time and tossed her a wink whenever he noticed her attention. If she ever tried to approach, however, he shooed her away with a subtle flick of his hand.

Lorelai explored the entire hold multiple times in her boredom, picking up various potentially useful items and attempting to speak with the Source Hounds. Unfortunately, these creatures were unlike any dog Lorelai had ever met; they were completely fixated on their task, unable to be distracted even by the promise of food or attention. She was beginning to wonder if there was some sinister magic at work here or whether the dogs were actually this well-trained. They could use crossbows, after all.

"Excuse me, sir," Lorelai called out as a Source Hound passed her by. She convinced herself that there was no harm in continuing to try to befriend the crossbow-wielding dogs.

"What is it?" the magister trailing the dog snapped impatiently.

Lorelai gaped at him for a moment, then laughed lightly. "My apologies," she said humbly. "I was speaking to your hound, not to you." Lorelai turned back to the dog, whose lips were curled back into a snarl. "I could find you a ball if you would like," she offered, and the growling instantly halted.

_"Ball?"_ the dog said hopefully, its head tilting to the side. _"Ball? Where?"_

"I do not have one with me at the moment," Lorelai admitted, encouraged by the dog's reaction, "but I can—"

_"Sorcerer lies!" _the dog snarled furiously. _"Get away! Bad sorcerer!"_

"Oh, no, I did not—"

"Stop whatever you're doing!" the magister interrupted Lorelai, looking between her and the angry hound. "Get your cursed magic out of here, you abomination, or I'll throw you into the ocean! No one will miss a sorcerer, after all."

"Will you _hush_?" an irritated elf sitting at a small table nearby grumbled. "I am trying to concentrate, but your infernal chatter is making that impossible." The magister hesitated but only growled dangerously. To Lorelai's relief, he decided to leave instead of confronting another sorcerer. The elf did not once look up from his book.

Lorelai cast one last glance at the dog, and it was gazing at her with a fury so intense that it made her cringe. She sighed and approached this other elf. Lorelai flopped into the chair across from him and leaned back, hoping he would ignore her so that she could get a reprieve from all this socializing. Instead, the elf looked up at her, narrowed his eyes, then snatched one of her hands. He gripped her wrist loosely and waved it so that her hand flopped about. She stared at him warily, but he either did not notice or did not care that she was nothing but bone.

"Fascinating," he muttered as he gazed intently at her wrist. "So similar and yet…" He hummed thoughtfully and released her so that he could return to his book.

"Now that we are intimately acquainted," Lorelai said, amused, "introductions should be in order."

The elf looked up quizzically, then his eyes widened. "Oh, I seem to have hit upon a cultural taboo," he said. "How… bothersome. I apologize for any offense or whatnot. I am not yet aware of all your customs."

Lorelai propped herself up on her elbows as she inspected him. "I am rather out of practice myself," she admitted. "If I remember correctly, which is not certain, then one must request permission from the other party before initiating physical contact."

"Hm, good to know," the elf murmured. He pulled a notebook from his coat and began writing quickly, glancing up at Lorelai intermittently. "Those magisters laid their hands on me quite a few times without permission," he mused. "That was very rude of them, then."

"It bloody was," Lorelai agreed. "I got out of it by telling them I had a horrifically contagious skin plague that was contracted through the slightest contact."

"And this plague is deadly to you?" the elf inquired, again writing rapidly in his notebook.

"Not to me," Lorelai replied airily, "but, if it were real, it would have peeled the flesh from one's body and rotted one's organs until one died in abject agony. Troublesome, really."

"Peeled the flesh…" the elf repeated under his breath as he scribbled, "from one's body…"

"That is assuming any accuracy on my part," Lorelai added before he could document false information. "I fabricated the symptoms to keep the magisters out of my personal space, but I have no idea if such a thing exists in reality."

The elf looked up and scrutinized her. "Lying is the first resort, then?"

"I dislike falsity on principle," Lorelai said, "but I implement it if it is necessary to preserve my or another's safety."

"So, life takes precedence over morals," the elf mused. "Interesting."

"I prefer the term 'existence' over 'life,'" Lorelai informed him, and he nodded, writing again. "You seem rather fascinated with mortals," Lorelai pointed out when he said nothing else.

The elf looked up and squinted at her unhappily. "I am far more interested in _im_mortals," he corrected her, "but you all seem obsessed with these transient things. It is very frustrating."

"Do you mean the divines?" Lorelai asked. "Why so curious?"

The elf froze, a flicker of panic running across his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. "Er, never mind why," he said hastily. "Do you know much about them?"

Lorelai shrugged. "The Seven created the races each in one's own image," she answered. "Otherwise, they seem to enjoy shrouding themselves in mystery, as they do not deign to do much appearing to the masses."

"Useless," the elf muttered with a scowl. He glared at his book again and began flipping rapidly through pages. "Absolutely useless."

The elf seemed intent on ignoring her now, so Lorelai stood up and left him to his research. Lorelai began to look for another corner in which she could sit. All this socializing with humanoids was exhausting, and she needed a quiet place to recover. She found a caged sheep out of the way of the rest of the passengers and sat down next to it. It bleated at her warningly.

"Hello," Lorelai greeted it. "What is your name?"

The sheep looked at her suspiciously. _"Who's aski—"_

To Lorelai's surprise, the sheep's words were interrupted by the ship exploding.


	4. Savage Waves and Soothing Winds

3\. Savage Waves and Soothing Winds

* * *

It felt that way to Lorelai, at least, as she was hit with a deluge of fire and knocked to the ground. When she came to, she saw nothing but flames surrounding her, the charred corpse of the sheep smoldering at her side. The ship was rocking dangerously, shuddering with intermittent impacts that sent Lorelai's nonexistent stomach roiling. She could barely see through the smoke, but she thanked any divine listening that she was not affected by an inability to breathe.

Lorelai relied on memory and adrenaline to locate the stairwell, though it was difficult in her disorientation. When she found it, she stumbled up the steps until she felt the acrid smoke being battled by gusts of cold sea air. The wind was accompanied by freezing rain and saltwater spray, but it was better than staying below.

Lorelai's relief at escaping the fires was short-lived, however, when she was faced with the massive form of a kraken. She gazed in awe and fear as the creature slammed its slimy tentacle onto the deck of the ship, obliterating a trio of magisters fighting Voidwoken. The kraken, unfortunately, did not have the courtesy to kill the Voidwoken as well, so Lorelai scrambled to pull her pack out before they noticed her. She searched for the knives she had taken from the larder, and they alighted in her hands the moment the pack sensed her wish.

The Voidwoken, giant maggot-like things, slithered towards her with disturbing hisses. Lorelai took a deep breath, scrounging for the fighting skills she had not used in so long. The moment one of the creatures slipped into range, Lorelai sent one of the knives hurtling towards it. The knife hit its mark with a wet squelch, and the Voidwoken curled up, twitching in violent death throes. The second did not hesitate to crawl over its companion as it fixed its beady eyes on Lorelai.

"I… know… you…" the Voidwoken hissed.

Lorelai's shock at the creature's capacity for speech disrupted her aim, so the second knife skidded far off-mark. The Voidwoken nearly upon her, Lorelai quickly summoned a tentacle around her arm, flicking it as a whip towards the creature. It hissed, pushing through the atrophy, but Lorelai kept up the barrage until it joined the other Voidwoken on its side.

Lorelai shuddered, still recovering from this sudden peril, but was shocked into action by the kraken wrapping a tentacle around the entire ship, the wood creaking as it resisted being crushed into splinters. Lorelai glanced queasily at the strikingly similar tentacle surrounding her own arm, so she let it dissipate before stumbling across the ship. Parts of the deck burst into flames, and Lorelai heard the screams of magisters as they succumbed to the fire.

Lorelai forced herself to focus, to find a way out, and her roving gaze noticed a boat on the far side of the deck. She rushed towards it eagerly. A dwarf Lorelai vaguely recognized from the hold was trying to release the only lifeboat, but a child with her arms around the lever prevented the dwarf from doing so.

"Where is everyone else?" Lorelai shouted amidst the sounds of the storm. "Are we the last on the ship? Did the others escape?"

"An Undead!" the dwarf yelled, pointing at her. "Kill it!" Lorelai lifted a hand to pat her head and realized that her hood had been blown back by the wind sometime.

"Not everyone!" the child replied, ignoring the dwarf. "The rest are still down below! Help them, please!"

Lorelai nodded briskly and dashed to a hatch nearby. She barely managed to pull it open from the force of the wind, and she slid down the ladder just as it slammed shut behind her.

"I should never have left the bloody forest," Lorelai muttered to herself as she rushed forwards. "Is anyone here?" she shouted as she entered the main area. "Hello? There is a lifeboat waiting!"

Looking around, she saw the slumped bodies of her fellow sorcerers. A familiar form caught her attention, and she rushed to the far end of the space to find Ifan sprawled out across the floor.

"Ifan!" she yelled, ignoring the steaming pile of gore next to the disembodied head of Viktar. "Ifan, wake up!" Lorelai shook his shoulder roughly, knowing he was alive from the sound of his breath whistling from his mouth, and he opened his eyes with a start. His eyes focused on her, and he skidded back with a gasp of shock. "Go up the hatch," she urged him. "There is a lifeboat."

"…Lorelai?" Ifan asked slowly, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Lorelai again realized that she had not replaced her hood. She mentally cursed herself and quickly tossed it back over her face. She opened her mouth to speak again, but she was interrupted by a series of familiar hisses.

"Voidwoken!" Lorelai yelled, turning to face at least eight of the creatures. She looked around desperately as they converged on Ifan and her, but none of the other sorcerers were awake yet. "Divines, keep this ship together," she whispered before planting her feet into a firm stance. "Hold on to something, Ifan," she called out.

Without checking if he reacted, Lorelai focused on the wood beneath her, willing it to form a layer of hardened stone that she then cracked with the force of a small earthquake. The wood began to splinter, but her spell had succeeded: The Voidwoken had fallen, stunned, and the other sorcerers had been shaken awake.

"Kill the Voidwoken!" Lorelai yelled, panting from the force of the spell.

The first to react was the dice-throwing elf. She pulled two makeshift daggers from her ragged clothes and rushed at one of the creatures, tearing it open in one savage motion. A moment later, a bolt of ice pierced through a Voidwoken preparing to attack her from behind, this originating from a red-haired woman who had been entertaining the children during the ship ride. The other sorcerers sprang into motion, and the Voidwoken were quickly dispatched.

"Up the ladder!" Lorelai yelled, pointing to the hatch from which she had come. "There is a lifeboat!"

The sorcerers ran past her, some shooting her a surprised glance, but she ignored them in favor of looking behind her at Ifan. He was slumped against the wall, his eyes open but dazed. Lorelai offered him a hand, and he allowed her to pull him to his feet. He looked her up and down with piercing green eyes, his gaze pausing on her covered skull, and then he broke out into a smirk.

"Always nice to wake up to a pretty face," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Lorelai laughed in response, wishing she could physically smile back, and released his arm. "I do appreciate the effusive compliments," she said briskly, suppressing her pleased embarrassment, "but you ought to run to the lifeboat before you join me among the dead."

Ifan offered her a grim nod, levity suspended for now, and led the way to the ladder. He climbed the ladder first, holding the hatch open with his scarred arms as she dragged herself back onto the stormy deck.

"Gods, I hate bloody boats," she moaned as she staggered to her feet.

"Yes, well, this next bloody boat might just save your life," Ifan retorted.

"Technically, it is a bit too late for that," Lorelai pointed out as he hurried her to the lifeboat.

The small wooden vessel was packed with the sorcerers and swaying dangerously in the wind. Ifan jumped in and held out his hand to pull her up as well, but a massive roar caught Lorelai's attention. She turned to see a large kraken tentacle hurtling straight towards the boat. Without stopping to think, Lorelai kicked the lever, releasing the lifeboat into the sea just as the tentacle whipped through the air above it. It slammed down near Lorelai's feet, and she was knocked back, the ship capsizing around her.

xXxXxXx

_…I have plans for you, child…_

_…Rise!_

Lorelai did not expect to be able to follow the orders of the voice echoing through her hollow skull but, surprisingly, she could. When the dark spots faded from her vision, Lorelai could see a bright blue sky painted with wispy clouds, and she smelled the sea and felt the texture of sand beneath her. Lorelai rose to her feet and looked around. She was on a beach with lush green foliage growing nearby. The sun reflected across the ocean waves, the very same waves that crashed against the broken remains of a familiar ship.

Lorelai had survived the shipwreck. She did not know how she had survived the shipwreck. She should have been bashed to pieces by the kraken and then tossed against rocks by the heavy seas until she was nothing but dust. She should not have washed up on a peaceful beach without a single scratch on her.

There was that voice, she supposed. The voice that had told her to 'Rise' and had 'plans' for her.' Disembodied voices made Lorelai suspicious, but she decided that being rescued by a disembodied voice was better than not being rescued at all.

The salty sea air swirled through Lorelai's naval cavity, and she retched. She grimly decided that if she ever smelled the ocean again, it would be too soon.

"I will never go on a bloody boat again," Lorelai vowed to herself. "Cross my chest cavity, hope to crumble, stick a needle through my eye socket." She snorted with laughter as she stretched, feeling her nonexistent tendons strain. "The Undead version is less poetic," she muttered.

With that reminder, Lorelai looked around for her cloak, but it was nowhere to be found. She searched for her bag next and was relieved to find it in the sand beside her. The outside was drenched, but she knew from experience that the interior would be completely dry. She slung it over her shoulder and decided she might as well explore her new home. The tight linen covering her arms was slipping off, waterlogged and torn, so she unwrapped it as she walked, allowing the cloth to trail behind her onto the sand. The prison dress she had under her cloak was in good enough shape that Lorelai kept it on. It was damp, but the thin fabric would dry soon enough in the warm sun.

As she wandered into the greenery at the edge of the beach, she wondered if she ought to be more careful. This island looked deserted so far, but walking about with no wrappings or hood was like begging someone to grind her skull into bone meal.

On the other hand, she had just survived a kraken attack completely unscathed. That had to count for something.

She decided to compromise: The moment she found a suitable cloak or covering, she would go back to hiding. Until then, she would allow the wind to whistle through her bones. She wished she herself could whistle, but the lack of tongue and lips made it quite impossible. She pretended instead that the breeze was using her bones as an instrument and tried to form a melody around it.

"Keep tempo," Lorelai scolded the wind when it kept foiling her attempts to wrangle its sounds into a song. "It is bad enough that you smell like rotten fish, you know. You should have the consideration to please at least _one_ of my admittedly few senses."

"Do be quiet," a familiar voice called out from ahead. Lorelai lifted her head to find the red lizard from the ship gazing out at the waves from atop an outcrop of rock. "I am musing," he continued in that condescending manner of his, "and your insane babbling is disrupting me."

"I do not appreciate you interrupting my conversation," Lorelai replied with faux disapproval. "I was discussing very important matters."

The lizard finally turned his head to give her a withering glare, not a drop of surprise on his face as he took in her skeletal form. "To whom were you speaking?" he drawled. "Not to me, I hope."

"The wind, of course," Lorelai harrumphed, "but I _am_ speaking to you right now. What were you musing about?"

The lizard returned to gazing at the horizon, his eyes equally determined and melancholy. "Tell me," he said, "what do you see?"

"You," Lorelai promptly replied.

"Ugh, unsophisticated idiot," the lizard muttered. "I mean, what do you see when you look out upon the waves?"

Lorelai grinned internally, wondering how long she could tease this lizard until he snapped. "I see my friend, the wind," she answered, "who is rather peeved about being left out of the conversation." As if on cue, a strong gust of wind caused a spray of water to hit the lizard right in the face. Lorelai pressed her hands against her mouth to keep herself from laughing.

The lizard, to his credit, did not flinch at the deluge of water. "You have no imagination," he told Lorelai without looking at her. "I myself see an _empire_. An empire cruelly snatched from my hands, and one I will take back, no matter the cost. It is my destiny, my purpose, my _right_."

"Take it _back_?" Lorelai repeated confusedly. "You had an empire at one point?"

That drew the lizard's attention, as he instantly spun to face her. "You mean to tell me that you do not know who I am?" he gasped dramatically.

Lorelai studied him intently, but nothing came to mind. She shook her head.

"I am the _Red Prince_," the lizard snapped. "I am the most famous war… tactician…" He trailed off when he noticed Lorelai's confused head tilt. "Ah, I can expect nothing less from you savages here," the Red Prince sighed despondently. He seemed finished lamenting Lorelai's ignorance as he returned to staring into the distance.

"Did the others survive, by any chance?" Lorelai piped up, ignoring the Red Prince's frustrated huff at his musing being interrupted again. "If you are here, then I would assume the lifeboat made it to shore, correct?"

"Have… we met?" the Red Prince said slowly. It was his turn to scrutinize her while she crossed her arms over her chest. "I do not recall ever making your acquaintance."

"You forgot your most promising slave candidate already?" Lorelai cried. "How very cruel of you!"

The Red Prince's eyes widened in recognition, and he finally turned his whole body to face her. "Yes, yes, that was you," he realized. "It was obvious you were an Undead, but I had not caught your face."

"So, you just assumed an arbitrary Undead native wearing waterlogged rags walked up to you on this island after a shipwreck?" Lorelai inquired.

"I assumed nothing," the Red Prince retorted. "I simply did not care enough to consider the possibilities."

"If I had a heart, it would be broken," she informed him gravely. "You still did not answer my question, however," she added when the Red Prince only glared.

"Oh, I was tossed from that flimsy vessel almost immediately," he said with an air of unconcern. "I have no idea if anyone else made it to shore. I hardly know how I myself survived."

"I do not think I can properly 'survive' anything anymore," Lorelai said, "but _my_ fragile bones were rescued by a strange voice. Either that, or I had a very vivid dream. I find that unlikely, however, as I have never dreamt as an Undead. That may have something to do with my disturbing lack of brain matter."

"A voice?" The Red Prince seemed surprised at her words, and he looked her over with a warier gaze. "I see," he said thoughtfully. "That… is intriguing."

He took a step down from his rock to stand closer to her. His eyes inspected her craftily, sizing her up as though she were a commodity, and Lorelai responded by reaching forwards and tapping him on the nose. The Red Prince snorted in surprise and skittered backwards, nearly falling off his rock, while Lorelai cackled.

"The _nerve_ of you!" the Red Prince cried as he brushed off his clothes. "You are absolutely unfit to be a slave." He tossed her that shrewd look again, this time with slightly more contempt. "However, you must be rather talented if you survived," he said, "and I find myself in search of talented people. I will allow you to accompany me while I complete some tasks."

"Only if you purchase me a new green cloak," Lorelai promptly replied. "I wish to look _dazzling_."

The Red Prince made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat but nodded. "As of now, I have no means to do so, but I suppose you deserve a boon for attempting to save my life back on the ship. The garment shall be yours. All I ask is that you aid me in finding a Dreamer on this island. Otherwise, you are free to do as you please."

"I am satisfied with this arrangement," Lorelai stated promptly. She spun on a heel and returned to her wandering, the Red Prince following at a small distance. She marveled at the fact that she had found a second person who cared nothing for her lack of life and returned to trying to berate the wind into a proper flautist.


	5. A Friendly Face

4\. A Friendly Face

* * *

So far, Fort Joy was living up to its reputation as a miserable pit. Ifan had watched a magister cut out her tongue only to be torn to shreds on Alexander's orders—on Ifan's target's orders. The whole debacle had occurred in broad daylight, in front of dozens of witnesses, and barely an eye had been batted.

It appeared that such cruelty was commonplace here.

To enter the fort itself, Ifan had to skirt past the steaming pile of guts which was all that remained of the traitorous magister. The positive of this was that Ifan now knew that Alexander was willing to leave his decadent lodgings, that he was not expecting an attack. Unsuspecting prey was far easier to eradicate.

Ifan grinned in anticipation as he surveyed his new home—a temporary home, of course. He would be on his way the second his contract was complete. His momentary good mood was interrupted, however, at the sight of a trio of armed, arrogant sorcerers blocking the way of a frightened elven woman. Like with the dead magister, no one paid attention. Cursing these apathetic people, Ifan strode forwards to stand by the elf's side, surreptitiously rolling up his sleeves to reveal his heavily scarred arms.

"—pay back what you owe," the most muscular of the trio was saying when Ifan approached. Everyone's eyes flickered to him, and the conceit of the trio faded into wariness.

"Off with you, stranger," the muscular man said gruffly. "This is none of your business."

Ifan grinned and crossed his arms. "Now, now, there's no need for things to get violent," Ifan chided. "Leave this little lass alone if you want to keep it that way." The elf turned to him with wide, grateful eyes, but Ifan remained staring down the leader of the thugs.

"The newcomer thinks he can take us," the sorcerer on the right scoffed. "Face it, fresh meat, you're outnumbered."

"It wouldn't be a fair fight otherwise," Ifan replied with a smirk. He reached to his side, prepared to draw the knife he had made. The thugs reached for their swords in response, and Ifan steeled himself for a tough battle.

"I am beginning to wonder if this Fort Joy is not such a joyous place after all," Ifan heard a familiar voice say from behind him. "A pile of intestines is not a very welcoming doormat for—oh, is that Ifan?" Ifan glanced back to see a hooded elf stepping daintily into the fort. She was followed by the scarlet lizard from the ship, an exasperated expression on his face. "Hello there, Ifan!" Lorelai called out, waving a gloved hand. She stopped short when she noticed the group with him. "Dear me, am I interrupting something?" she inquired. "I do apologize."

"It appears that we have stumbled into an imminent battle," the lizard observed in a bored tone. "Delightful."

Lorelai laughed and trotted forward to stand at Ifan's side. "Is the Red Prince correct?" she asked him.

Ifan nodded, hiding his relief at seeing her unharmed as he turned his attention back to the thugs. They were inspecting Lorelai and the lizard warily, their hands still on their weapons. Lorelai hummed thoughtfully and gazed at the cowering elf for a moment.

"I suppose this is an extortion attempt?" she surmised. Ifan nodded again, a grin crossing his face at Lorelai's disarmingly friendly tone. "Goodness," she continued, "extortion is rather rude, no? I myself am a fan of kindness and decorum."

Lorelai casually lifted one of her arms, a bloody, disembodied hand clutched in her grip. She delicately reached under her hood, and Ifan winced slightly when he heard a wet crunch. Lorelai shuddered, then whispered something that Ifan did not catch. A moment later, she drew the hand from beneath her hood, a large bite now decorating its scaled wrist.

"Ah, what a treat," Lorelai said around the sound of chewing. She swallowed audibly and tilted her head to the side. "Truth be told," she said to the thugs, "I am not particularly peckish, but I will always make an exception for such appetizing morsels such as yourselves."

"Disgusting cannibals," the first thug snarled, but his hand released his weapon. The other two thugs had already begun backing away, nervousness overtaking their expressions, and Ifan held back a laugh.

"Be off with you," the lizard said with a deep sigh. "I have far more important things to do than kill a band of cretins."

The first thug bared his teeth at Ifan and glared fiercely at the others. "I'll remember this," he growled. "You'd better watch yourselves."

"Same to you," Ifan said with a chuckle. With one last snarl, the thugs turned at walked away stiffly.

The elf they had saved sent them a worshipful look that made Ifan uncomfortable. "My name is Elodi. Thank you for your kindness," she said gravely.

"Ifan," he replied. "Not even I can stand by watching such blatant intimidation. Be safe."

Elodi gave Ifan a shallow bow before darting away.

"I am glad to see you survived, my friend," Lorelai told him when Elodi left. She casually tossed the disembodied hand away, and it landed on a shrine ahead of them. A sorcerer praying in front of it jumped away with a shriek and looked around wildly.

"You too," Ifan said honestly. He gently pushed Lorelai away as the devout sorcerer rested his glare on the hooded elf. "Any plans now that we've arrived at prison?"

"Oh, escape, I suppose," Lorelai said airily. "I am in no hurry, however, unless someone attempts to cure me of my Source. That could be rather bothersome."

"You seem casual about being locked up," Ifan noted as Lorelai led the way towards a sandy area.

"After one spends so many centuries traveling the world, flimsy prisons such as this cease to disturb," she answered. While Ifan tried to wrap his mind around Lorelai being that old, Lorelai looked around as though searching for something. "This sort of prison," she continued aimlessly, "an open-air one, I mean, is the simplest from which to escape. There are dozens of routes, I assure you, and dozens of people who know where they are. It would be far more difficult to escape from a small locked cell in an underground dungeon patrolled by magisters."

"True enough," Ifan acknowledged. "Anyone you're letting in on your plans?" He grinned at her, and she laughed.

"Plans?" she repeated. "You mistake me, Ifan. I have no plans to share. If I form one, however, you and the Red Prince are welcome to join."

"I'll promise the same," Ifan said, and Lorelai nodded to him.

"Your generosity abounds," the Red Prince drawled from a short distance behind.

"And why is he here again?" Ifan asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the Red Prince.

"He promised to purchase a cloak for me," she replied.

Ifan realized that she was not wearing her green cloak anymore, her body now covered by a series of hastily stitched-together rags. "We'd better find you something sturdier than that," Ifan said. "Looks like it's about to fall apart any second now."

"Are you insulting my unparalleled emergency sewing skills?" Lorelai huffed dramatically.

"Not directly," Ifan replied, and Lorelai laughed loudly. "How did you manage to find a needle and thread in this place anyway?"

"I have both in my pack," Lorelai explained. "You never know when you will have to stitch up a wound, after all." She chuckled. "Now," she said more briskly, "the Red Prince has a Dreamer to find. Is there anything you must accomplish while we are in Fort Joy?"

"Oh, I've got a little errand to run," Ifan replied with a smile.

"Errand?" Lorelai repeated. "That sounds rather ominous."

"It's my job," Ifan said carefully. "I run errands."

"So you said," Lorelai said patiently. "You must be more clear with me, I am afraid."

"I work for as a Lone Wolf," Ifan said gruffly. "I'm a mercenary."

Lorelai nodded her head with a soft hum. "Lone Wolf," she mused. "Is that why you sharpened your teeth so?"

"What can I say?" Ifan laughed, pleased she did not seem to mind his profession. "It works wonders to… persuade people."

"People are frightened by such silly things," Lorelai responded. "Sharp teeth, death, un-death, Source… Silly."

"So, what should people be scared of, in your opinion?" Ifan asked, an eyebrow raised.

Lorelai shrugged as she walked over to a man lying prone on a bedroll. She did not stop beside him, but Ifan saw her hand move in a slight gesture. A soothing blue light washed over the man, and he sat up with a gasp, his wounds healed.

"Wait, what?" a dwarf medic cried, running to his bedside. "What happened?"

"I told ya!" the man crowed. "Bloody medicine's all a scam! All ya need is some rest and a hardy constitution."

"That's bullshit. You were dying!"

"Do I look like I'm dyin' to you?"

The rest of the conversation faded into the distance as Lorelai continued on her way. "I suppose we ought to be scared of ourselves," Lorelai replied thoughtfully. "Fear exists for a reason. Listening to fear is just as important as conquering it."

"Wonderful philosophy," the Red Prince drawled, "but I do not believe you answered the question."

"Did I not?" Lorelai inquired, a touch of surprise in her tone. "We must question ourselves at every crossroads," she explained, "and determine whether our fear—or lack thereof—should be conquered or heeded. We should fear our own potential to harm others or our own inability to help. Fear is… fear is a tool," she said passionately, "rather than an impulse. People do not see it as thus."

"You speak in riddles," the Red Prince muttered. "What can anyone take from that?"

Lorelai laughed lightly and shrugged. "I have not the faintest idea," she replied. She turned her head to Ifan. "Now, may I help you on your errand at all? I would be glad to do so."

"That's a decision you'll have to make for yourself," Ifan said. He smiled as he placed his pack on the ground again, this time scrounging for a small scrap of paper. Once found, he handed it to Lorelai, watching for her reaction carefully. She lifted the edge of her hood slightly so that she could read it. After a moment of silence, she began to laugh.

"Divine Alexander? You are a bloody madman," she giggled. She handed the note back and nodded to the Red Prince. "Finding a sleeping lizard pales in comparison to Ifan's task," she teased

"A Dreamer is no mere 'sleeping lizard,'" the Red Prince snapped back as Ifan returned the contract to his pack with a grin. "Do you know nothing? And what could be more imperative than restoring a prince's empire to him?"

"Just about anything's more interesting than that," Ifan offered, "to people who don't give two shits about your empire." The Red Prince snarled furiously while Lorelai laughed again. "For now, though," Ifan added, "I need to find Magister Borris, my inside man."

"I have not participated in a treasure hunt in longer than I can remember," Lorelai sighed dreamily. "This shall be good fun. While we are on this treasure hunt, however, I would like to add a name. If anyone stumbles upon a 'Verdas,' do let me know."

"I thought you didn't have anything to do here?" Ifan interjected while Lorelai wandered over to a black dog pacing mournfully in the dirt.

"It is not my own task," Lorelai said, "but I feel obligated to a certain delectable hand."

She sat down on the ground in front of the dog and coaxed it gently. The dog whimpered but did not approach. Lorelai reached into her pack and pulled out a red ball, squeaking it loudly. The dog instantly wagged its tail in joy and bounded to her, barking and whining as she teased it with the toy.

"Why is she so determined to waste time?" the Red Prince muttered. "I have important matters to attend to, yet here we are, stopping brawls and petting mangy beasts."

"No one's keeping you from leaving," Ifan replied dryly, focusing most of his attention on Lorelai, who was now conversing with the dog. "I certainly won't."

"That is no way to speak to royalty," the Red Prince retorted. "Watch your tongue."

Ifan finally tossed the prince a sideways glance and snorted at the irritation in the lizard's face. "You may have been important back wherever you're from," he said, "but you're nobody here. You're a prisoner. Just like me." He nodded to Lorelai. "Just like her. You need to figure that out if you want to survive."

"Why?" the Red Prince sniffed. "I am not searching for friends. I have no use for that drivel. I make alliances of utility and nothing more."

Ifan raised a brow. "That right?" he said dryly. "And what utility do you serve?"

"Protection, if you must know," the Red Prince said. "Safety in numbers and all that."

Ifan nodded before returning to watch Lorelai rub the wriggling dog's belly. He did not trust or like the Red Prince, but he had just enough confidence in Lorelai to tolerate the lizard's presence. As long as the lizard did not get in the way of his contract, there would be no trouble. The same, of course, went for Lorelai.


	6. For Politeness' Sake

_**Semi-important A/N:**_ _aight so i've been playing divinity games since the start (flex), and the lore/timeline/map have changed so much that it's difficult to keep track. plus, there are lots of gaps in history and continuity in all of these. thus, i have taken the liberty of filling the gaps and tweaking the lore so that it is consistent and also works with my story. so, if you're all like "that's not how the undead work in DOS2!" then i'll say "that's not how they worked in divine divinity, but then they changed it in beyond divinity and then in divinity 2 and DOS and etc and it's all kind of a mess and also im just constantly confused by the world in general"_

_thanks for reading! and hi, new reader(s)_

* * *

5\. For Politeness' Sake

* * *

"And _why_ are we bothering to rummage through every sodden crate on this beach?" the Red Prince asked impatiently.

Lorelai was leaning into one such crate, tossing out various items as she searched through it. "You may be surprised at how many interesting items reside in sodden crates," Lorelai told him distractedly, "especially the sodden crates of a shipwreck. You living creatures need food, do you not? Ships carry food and fresh water and… Ah!" With a soft exclamation, Lorelai pushed herself out of the crate and held up a heavy box. "A wide range of alcohol," she said triumphantly.

Ifan grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the evening light, and strode forwards as she cracked open the box. As expected, many of the bottles had broken, but nearly half of them were still intact. Ifan did not hesitate to open the first bottle and begin to take long draughts.

"Does your kind partake?" the Red Prince asked curiously as Lorelai handed him a bottle.

Lorelai shrugged. "It would likely take a few barrels of the stuff to get me drunk, but I can feel it slightly," she said. "My kind has some senses, muted as they are."

"Really?" Ifan asked after a heavy swallow. The Red Prince opened his own drink with a claw, sniffed it, then handed it back to Lorelai with a grimace. "I thought the Undead couldn't feel anything."

"It is a common misconception," Lorelai agreed, "perpetrated by those who wish to portray us as pitiless monsters." She pushed her hood back and poured nearly half the bottle into her mouth. As the liquid disappeared to wherever the things she ate went, she felt a slight tingle where her tongue would have been, but nothing more. Lorelai removed a glove to run her fingerbones through the coarse sand. "I can differentiate between textures," she continued. "Glass is smooth,"—She held up the bottle of ale—"and sand is rough. I do not feel pleasure or pain, however. Being stabbed through the spinal cord hurts just as much as a hug. What I feel are differences in pressure. Do you follow thus far?"

"Aye," Ifan said. He took another heavy draught from the bottle.

"I can smell somewhat," Lorelai continued, "but do not differentiate between bad or good smells; the same goes for taste. That is _not_ to say that I have no preferences. Some textures, tastes, smells, and the like hold bad or good memories which affect my perception of the sense. My sight is perfectly normal, but I am not affected by the sun's glare. I can see in the dark better than most people, but not too well."

"Didn't know that," Ifan mused, eyeing her skull with acute interest. "How does it all work?"

"Necromancy is a delicate field of study," the Red Prince said before Lorelai could answer. "It is stigmatized not only because it disrupts the dead but also because it is not well understood."

"Very true," Lorelai agreed with a nod to him. "Most explanations of how I can move without muscles, feel without nerves, see without eyes, hear without ears… are 'because of magic.' It is quite frustrating for both the necromancers and the Undead."

"You'd think someone would have figured it out by now," Ifan remarked. He tipped his bottle back, realized it was empty, and tossed it back into the crate with a grunt.

"Death is a unique experience," Lorelai replied as she handed him a new bottle. "Anyone who suffers from it returns greatly changed and without the ability to articulate the details." She laughed slightly. "Thus, death is nearly as mysterious to the Undead as it is to the living."

"Huh, didn't expect that," Ifan said. He studied her with a shrewd gaze, then tapped at the top of his head. "Does all the decoration up there do something?"

"Not at all," Lorelai returned. Her ashen bones were covered in careful carvings and colorful tattoos. She lovingly traced a crescent moon that followed the curve of her left eye socket. "I have no hair," she said, "or skin or much ability to wear jewelry or pretty clothes. I amuse myself by adorning my bones with the skeleton equivalent of tattoos."

"I had not realized Undead creatures had such vanity," the Red Prince commented as he eyed her contemptuously.

"Of course we have vanity!" Lorelai cried with exaggerated shock. "Sight is my strongest sense, after all, so I take advantage of it by surrounding myself with bright color."

"Guess that makes sense," Ifan acknowledged with a slight slur to his voice. His second bottle was already empty. "Makin' me want to get some ink now."

"An unadvisable drunken decision," Lorelai warned him even as she gave him a third bottle, "but I will happily shove pigmented needles through your delicate skin for hours upon hours. That is, if you still wish it when you are sober and able to feel every prick of the needle tearing your flesh raw and bloody."

Ifan winced at her description and waved the bottle languidly at her. "On second thought," he drawled, "that sounds painful."

"I would not know," Lorelai replied cheekily. She regarded the Red Prince expectantly. "Would you like me to decorate your scales with pretty pictures of your empire in the sea? Perhaps a rainbow for luck?"

"Never," the Red Prince snapped, his lips curled back to reveal sharp fangs. "My scales are unique in their color, and I will not have them defiled."

"As you command, my prince," Lorelai said solemnly.

The Red Prince rolled his eyes. He was beginning to pick up on Lorelai's sarcastic humility towards his superior authority, but he had not yet commented on it. She anticipated that he would lighten up if he grew a sense of humor about himself, but it was far too early to determine the full extent of his stubborn arrogance. She hoped it would lessen before he incited conflict.

As she watched Ifan fall into a heavy slumber, Lorelai resisted the urge to pat him gently on the head. He was usually so alert—amicable, to be sure, but it was always tempered with suspicion. Now, he had a soft smile on his bearded face as a light snore rattled through his throat.

Lorelai vaguely wondered at such a contradictory personality. Both of her new companions were reticent about their pasts, but Lorelai did not mind. She had her own private circumstances, after all, and everyone was entitled to their secrets. She could only help them feel comfortable enough to open up, and perhaps she would even return the favor. It had been centuries since she had had a non-animal friend, and the possibility both excited and terrified her.

"The more the merrier?" Lorelai murmured aloud as she fell deeper into her train of thought. "Or, does the quality supersede quantity?" She sighed. "Wherever is the happy medium…?"

"What was tha'?" the inebriated Ifan slurred, barely awake.

"Nothing of import," Lorelai said in a soft voice as she stared out at the horizon. "I am simply musing aloud."

"Yes, and it is one of your least endearing qualities," the Red Prince grumbled.

Lorelai did not answer, content with watching the rich colors of the sunset spread across the open expanse of the ocean. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Lorelai glanced back at her companions again. The Red Prince seemed as entranced with the sunset as she was, and Ifan was snoring in the sand.

"You ought to rest," Lorelai told the Red Prince. "As I do not require sleep, I will keep watch, perhaps scavenge more. Is this acceptable?"

The Red Prince gazed at her shrewdly for a long moment before nodding once. "Please be aware," he added in a low rumble, "that I am not to be trifled with, even asleep."

"I am fully aware of that," Lorelai replied cheerfully, unfazed by his unsubtle threat.

The Red Prince responded with a small huff, then watched suspiciously as Lorelai rummaged through her ribcage. She pulled out her bag and scrounged for a tightly wrapped bedroll. She offered it to the Red Prince, keeping her arm outstretched patiently until he took it from her with unnecessary caution.

"I would wish you sweet dreams," she told him as he stood to unroll it, "but I suppose you are not of that House."

"True," the Red Prince said. He kicked at the sand distastefully for a moment before resting the bedroll a small distance away from Lorelai and Ifan. He situated himself on the blanket awkwardly but eventually managed to settle in.

Lorelai sat in the sand between her two companions and listened to the drone of the sea. She lost herself in the sound, relaxing from the repetitive noise even if the thought of the ocean itself still discomforted her. She remained thus for perhaps an hour before a gust of wind whistling through her skull brought her back to her senses. She looked around, barely able to see in the pitch darkness, then glanced at her two sleeping charges.

Lorelai could not notice temperature, but she suddenly realized that the sea air would result in a chilly night. Thus, she rummaged through her pack again and pulled out a blanket which she draped over Ifan. He jolted awake with a start and had a knife aimed at Lorelai before she could even twitch. His gaze was ice cold, his muscles poised to strike at any moment.

Lorelai remained still, waiting for recognition to fill Ifan's eyes, and he slowly lowered the knife. "Sorry 'bout that," he said gruffly.

"It is no trouble," Lorelai replied graciously. Ifan glanced down at the blanket, then back at her.

"This is… for me?" he asked with furrowed brows.

"It would be rather embarrassing if you died from sleeping in the cold air, yes?" Lorelai said with a small laugh. "If I remember correctly, creatures without protective fur or scales get chilled very easily." She balked, suddenly doubting herself as Ifan only stared, his pale green eyes reflecting the light of the moon. "I… could be wrong," she admitted. "If so, then I apologize for such a presumption."

Ifan's light chuckle relaxed Lorelai, and he pulled the blanket up to his shoulders. "Nah, you're right," he said before flopping back into the sand. Barely a minute later, he was snoring again.

Ifan was the more perplexing of her two companions. He seemed to oscillate between a desire to protect the innocent and a cheerful willingness to kill in cold blood. Moving from a commander in the Divine Order to a mercenary seemed like a dramatic shift as well, and Lorelai wondered if it had caused the dichotomy in his personality. What mattered most to her, however, was that Ifan seemed to enjoy her presence well enough and that he did not mind her lack of life. Lorelai only hoped that his amicability could not be bought.

Lorelai shifted uncomfortably in the sand and gazed up at the night sky. Being unable to sleep gave one far too much time to think. Perhaps it was the time for some action.

xXxXxXx

Wakefulness came to Ifan in waves, accompanied by the heaviness in his limbs and aches across his body that resulted from too much to drink. The ale from last night had been stronger than he had expected, enough that he had fallen asleep unguarded. He moaned and threw an arm across his eyes to lessen the intensity of the sun on his face, perhaps catch a few more minutes of uninterrupted sleep, but a soft rustle jolted him upright.

Acting on years of instinct, Ifan had a dagger in his hand pointed straight at the sound before he was even fully awake. Remembering how he had nearly stabbed Lorelai last night, he kept himself from attacking until he could take in his surroundings.

What he saw in front of him immediately made him lunge.

The edge of Ifan's knife skidded against a pale green barrier, just barely saving the massive serpent in front of him from being gutted. Ifan skittered backwards, and the Red Prince awoke with a gasp when sand was kicked into his face. The lizard leapt to his feet with a curse in an unfamiliar language, and Ifan heard a weapon being drawn at the sight of the serpent.

The snake itself did not move, simply staring at Ifan with emerald eyes, its black tongue flicking from its mouth intermittently. Its scales were colored a deep green mottled with various patches of black and brown that would blend in perfectly with a forest floor but looked blatantly out of place on a sandy beach. Based on the thickness of its coiled body, it was an enormous creature.

"What in the bloody divines is _that_?" the Red Prince whispered hoarsely.

Ifan shook his head, as shocked as the Red Prince was, but did not move his gaze from the snake's. The snake's tongue flicked out once more, then a dark green tendril of light slid out of its mouth and alighted upon a sheet of paper beside it. The paper glowed a soft green, and the tendril lifted it towards Ifan.

Ifan swore that the snake gazed at him expectantly.

Cautiously, Ifan snatched the piece of paper, and the tendril disappeared. Seeming satisfied, the snake lowered its head onto the rest of its coils and closed its eyes.

Ifan took a few slow steps backwards until he was beside the Red Prince before glancing at the paper. It was a letter of some sort, inked in a beautifully looping cursive that was far too compact for Ifan to read easily. Noticing his struggle, the Red Prince took the letter and read it aloud. The moment the Red Prince began to speak, Ifan knew its author.

_My dearest Red Prince and Ifan,_

_Please, do not be alarmed at the presence of the very large serpent currently watching you. She is my familiar and is far more courteous than her terrifying visage would imply. Her name is Bunny, and she is a constrictor snake, no venom to be found. I beg you, do not stab her, else I will be enormously displeased. I have already introduced the two of you as friends, so Bunny will make no attempt to threaten you and every attempt to protect you from harm._

_The reason Bunny is here is that I grew quite bored with guard duty and decided to spend the night exploring our temporary home. I ask that you stay your anger; I am unused to wasting entire nights sitting awake and staring at terribly mundane sand. Since I did promise to guard your frail bodies of flesh and blood, however, I summoned my beloved familiar to take my place. She is far better at sensing danger than I am, and she is an altogether more effective deterrent to any nasties planning to rob you blind—not that either of you has an excessive amount of possessions at the moment._

_It is my intention to return here before either of you awakes, but that may not occur, as I am easily distracted and lose track of time. Time is utterly inconsequential to a near-immortal, after all. Bunny should offer you a parcel with what I hope is an edible meal for the two of you, but forgive me if I have guessed incorrectly at either of your diets. I did order Bunny not to eat the rations, but she has little self-control at the prospect of a meal and may have devoured it all—neither of you are her usual stock, of course, so harbor no worries on that account. Do scold her, however, if she acts at all impolitely._

_Feel no obligation to wait for me here, as Bunny and I know each other__'s location at all times. If you feel compelled to find me, simply inform Bunny and follow her lead. If you would prefer to gallivant alone, do keep Bunny with you so that I can return to you lot._

_With overwhelming affection,_

_Lorelai_

When the Red Prince fell silent, he traded glances with Ifan. Both stared at the serpent next, and it flicked its tongue at them in a bored manner.

"I suppose I should not be surprised at this development," the Red Prince sighed, delicately folding the letter and slipping it into his pack.

Ifan decided to test his luck with the snake and held out his hand for it to inspect, hoping it would follow Lorelai's instructions not to attack. Thankfully, the snake only blinked and flicked out its tongue. Ifan's skin crawled at the disconcerting sensation against the tips of his fingers, but he did not move. The snake yawned, showing off half-sheathed fangs, and began to unwind its body. Ifan stepped back, but the snake only used its telekinetic tendril to offer him a small cloth parcel which had been protected by the snake's coils. Ifan plucked it from the air and untied the bow of twine to reveal a neat pile of dried meats and berries as well as two completely raw, unbroken eggs.

Ifan smirked and returned to the Red Prince, showing the lizard the parcel's contents. The Red Prince looked queasy as he inspected his meal but deigned to nibble on it.

"I wouldn't recommend eating the berries," the Ifan warned as the Red Prince placed one into his mouth. "They're poisonous." The Red Prince instantly spat out the berry, wiping hurriedly at his tongue as Ifan chuckled.

After he was satisfied with the lack of berry juice in his mouth, the Red Prince inspected the eggs with one raised brow. "Is it common to eat these raw?"

"You could," Ifan said, "but they taste like liquid dirt."

"Ah." The Red Prince began munching unhappily at the meat while he regarded the serpent out of the corner of his eye. "The elf tried, I suppose," he sighed with unexpected amnesty. "One can expect little else from an Undead. Unless, of course, she is an assassin, but that seems quite unlikely."

Ifan devoured his own rations greedily in the hopes that the salted meat would settle his roiling stomach. The serpent was looking at him with a strangely wistful expression as it swayed from side to side, so Ifan tossed it one of the eggs. The snake eagerly snatched it from the air with its telekinetic tendril and swallowed it whole. It waited expectantly until Ifan sent the other egg its way. He was unsure if the snake would be poisoned from the berries, so he dropped them into one of the empty ale bottles and stuffed the cloth into the neck before placing the bottle into his pack. It was always good to have some extra poisons on hand.

Ifan glanced at the Red Prince next. "Unless you have anything else to do," he said, "I'm going to meet back up with Lorelai."

"We have no business, you and I," the Red Prince said dismissively. "Do as you please, and I will do likewise."

Ifan shrugged, cheerfully accepting the Red Prince's decision, and looked back to the snake. "Will you lead me to Lorelai?" he asked. The creature was clearly intelligent, and Ifan was reminded of his wolf, his steadfast companion that he could not summon as long as he had this blasted collar around his neck.

The snake flicked out its tongue and began to unwind its body. At full length, it twice as long as the Red Prince was tall. It would have little trouble crushing every bone in Ifan's body if it decided to attack, so Ifan kept one hand on his dagger as he trailed at a safe distance. Heavy steps from behind indicated that the Red Prince was doing the same. The snake slithered across the ground rapidly, enough that Ifan was hard-pressed to keep up. They elicited many stares and gasps from those they passed, and Ifan could hardly blame them. It was a strange sight: an oddly colored, enormous serpent being followed by a scruffy human and a crimson lizard. Ifan could barely keep from laughing aloud.

Eventually, the snake led them to the edge of the beach. It lifted its head, hissed softly, and picked up its pace as it approached a nearby grove of trees. Ifan hurried behind, sensing the snake's urgency, and drew his knife in preparation for danger ahead.

"Yes, I am fully aware of the hazards involved," Lorelai's voice filtered through nearby trees. "There is no reason, however, to fear. I am well-equipped with—"

A loud bellow cut her off just as Ifan caught sight of a silvery skull visible through the gently swaying leaves. "Lorelai," Ifan called out worriedly. He rushed forwards, his urgency increasing when the snake suddenly dissolved into bright green sparks that dissipated through the air. "Is everything all right?" Ifan asked breathlessly when Lorelai's full form came into view.

"No, no, they are friends," Lorelai assured the very large grizzly bear standing in front of her. Ifan froze.

There was a short pause while the bear fixed Ifan with a savage snarl. Ifan returned the gesture, and the bear jerked back with a low, rumbling growl. Lorelai chuckled and glanced at Ifan for a moment.

"Yes, I know that you can," she told the bear soothingly. "Your ferocity has no equal. Conversely, I shall give you honey if you do not."

The bear instantly relaxed and looked to Lorelai with hopeful eyes. It made a soft whine until Lorelai fetched a jar of honey from her pack. She unscrewed the lid and unflinchingly allowed the bear to slap it out of her hand with a massive paw. The glass smashed against the ground, and the bear greedily licked the honey that had splattered about.

"Ifan, Red Prince," Lorelai greeted them now that the bear was distracted. She began to approach, then gasped and glanced upwards. "Oh, it is no longer nighttime," she observed. "I apologize for not returning," she told Ifan and the Red Prince. "I assume you received my missive?"

"Yes," Ifan acknowledged, still eyeing the bear warily, "and I have to say that it was a shock to wake up next to a giant snake."

Lorelai laughed and dipped her head in acknowledgement. "Indeed, I apologize," she said. "She is my familiar, Bunny, and likely the best guard one might ask for."

"Unnecessary," the Red Prince sniffed, "but appreciated nonetheless."

Lorelai seemed delighted as she bobbed her head up and down. "Thank you, my dear Red Prince," she crowed. "I am glad."

Ifan was again surprised by the Red Prince's lack of animosity towards Lorelai, but he did not allow any expression except calm amusement on his face. "So," he said, "you spent the night meeting the local wildlife?"

"Indeed," Lorelai replied. She moved towards Ifan and beckoned to them subtly so that they followed at her heels. She glanced back at the bear once, but it was still absorbed in devouring the honey. "Gracious," she muttered, "I am relieved that I had a proper bribe for my bear friend, as he was rather desirous to kill you both for interrupting our conversation about brambles."

"A mere bear could not kill me," the Red Prince scoffed.

"Yes, exactly," Lorelai said with a small laugh. "I did not wish for the bear to be killed on my account. Such a waste of life."

"It would have made a proper trophy," the Red Prince mused with one clawed hand resting thoughtfully against his chin. "A shame I have nowhere to display such a thing…"

Ifan expected Lorelai to be angered, but she only tilted her head to the side. "True," she mused. "Perhaps some sort of cape…?" she proposed. "A garment is the only useful application I can think of for a bear's skin. Oh, I know! A blanket for you warm-blooded creatures!"

The Red Prince looked at Lorelai warily, likely as confused as Ifan was by her apparent unconcern for her the life of her 'friend.' "That sounds appropriate," the Red Prince said carefully. "Shall we retrace our steps and kill the beast?"

"I wish to take no part in such a thing," Lorelai replied cheerfully. "He was a charming creature—very strong opinions about blackberries."

"Have you no qualms in my killing of the beast?"

"I am not some manifestation of your conscience," Lorelai said with a sideways glance at the Red Prince. "There are very few scenarios in which I would feel compelled to enforce my own personal beliefs on someone."

"Oh, really?" the Red Prince asked, clearly intrigued. Ifan shared his sentiment, but he did a better job of hiding it. "What are those scenarios?"

Lorelai laughed loudly and patted the Red Prince on the shoulder. He hissed under his breath and stepped away from her with a glare. "Dear one," she said, "let us hope that you never need to find out."

Ifan felt a chill run through him at what sounded like a casual threat, but Lorelai's body language and tone did not hint at malice. The Red Prince only raised his eyebrow and did not continue the thread of conversation.

"Now," Lorelai continued cheerfully, "the bear informed me of a few notable caches of weapons and valuables. Shall we pillage and explore a tad? I am certain the two of you would like some proper equipment, and I need some new coverings."

Ifan chuckled and gave her a swift nod while the Red Prince waved an arrogant hand of acknowledgement.


	7. Into the Shadows

6\. Into the Shadows

* * *

"Yes, and after the contest, the poor man was nearly catatonic," Lorelai told Ifan as they looted the corpses of a small posse of assassins intent on murdering the Red Prince. "He insisted that I had watered down the ale, and I was outraged. The insinuation that I had _cheated_ in a drinking contest was an utter affront."

The Red Prince cleared his throat from behind the other two.

"Isn't being an Undead already technically cheating?" Ifan asked Lorelai with furrowed brows as he filched one of the assassins' coin purses. He bounced the purse in his hand and grinned before pocketing it.

"If I may…" the Red Prince began.

"Just because I cannot quite digest alcohol does not mean I violated any of the rules of the contest!" Lorelai shot back, peeved. "It is completely his own fault for not entertaining the idea that I could be an Undead!"

"Right, right," Ifan drawled, a smile twitching at his lips. "Because everyone instantly thinks that they might be drinking against an Undead."

"What is the point of this childish display?" the Red Prince snapped. Lorelai childishly ignored him.

"At the most," Lorelai said, "it is a loophole. As I said, I violated no rules."

"Fine, I can accept that," Ifan conceded. "What happened next?"

"Oh, the man threw up on my shoes and proceeded to fall unconscious in the pool of his own sick," Lorelai stated matter-of-factly. "I took my winnings off his person and never saw the man again."

"And the moral of this story is…?"

"Never bet against me, of course!"

Ifan laughed loudly and swiped his hands together. "Sound advice," he said. "Anything else to do?"

"Oh, for the love of…" The Red Prince sighed deeply. "Being surprised by a group of assassins is nothing to fret about. I involved neither of you, after all, and took care of the matter by myself. I hardly broke a sweat."

Lorelai finally turned to face the Red Prince, both hands sternly placed on her hips. "Red Prince, dearest," she began in a scolding tone, "I have no trouble believing that you are capable of slaughtering a pack of assassins with hardly breaking a sweat, but I do not appreciate you putting yourself in danger without enlisting my aid or at least _informing_ me of the matter!" The Red Prince looked shocked but still offered no explanation.

Lorelai huffed and surveyed the corpses one last time. Last night, Lorelai had returned to the camp to find Ifan asleep as usual but the Red Prince gone. Bunny had informed Lorelai that the Red Prince had left for a walk. Knowing that the Red Prince had a habit of doing so, Lorelai had not been worried.

After nearly two hours of waiting, however, Lorelai had decided to search for her companion. Bunny pointed Lorelai in the general direction of the Red Prince's departure, and she had set off. She had found him about a half hour's walk away, wiping his bloody blade on the clothes of one of the three dead humans nearby.

With his usual air of aristocratic unconcern, the Red Prince had waved off any questions. Lorelai had still been fretting by the time Ifan had joined them with Bunny. When the Red Prince still refused to give details beyond that the dead men had been assassins, Lorelai had decided to give him the silent treatment.

"I am being hunted," the Red Prince finally said. "My empire, as I have mentioned, was stolen. I assume that those who took it from me aim to take my life as well."

Lorelai finally approached him and tilted her head to the side. "Who are they?" she asked.

"In truth," the Red Prince said slowly, "I do not know."

"Then let us strive to find out and make certain that they never manage to take your life, yes?"

The Red Prince was clearly suspicious, but he did give her a single brisk nod. "That was always my plan," he replied dryly.

Happy to have some information, minimal as it was, Lorelai patted the Red Prince on the shoulder and began the trek back to their camp. The sun had not yet risen so, when everyone got back to their camp on the beach, Lorelai proposed that her mortal companions catch a few more hours of sleep. Both accepted, and drifted off quickly. Lorelai, however, was too keyed up to relax. She was worried for the Red Prince.

A week in each others' company, and Lorelai was growing very fond of her two companions. Ifan was clever and good-humored, while the Red Prince had a deep interest in the many centuries of history that Lorelai had herself experienced. With Ifan, Lorelai could have delightful and humorous conversations while also swapping stories of mayhem. Lorelai felt a strong kinship with him when they exchanged anecdotes, but Ifan had clear limits. He was very guarded with topics of a more personal manner, but Lorelai did not mind. She had dearly missed having someone, anyone, to talk to without the constant fear of discovery and rejection based on her living situation—namely, the lack of 'living' involved.

The Red Prince was far less amiable than Ifan, but he was frightfully intelligent and had developed a wary respect for Lorelai based on her own extensive knowledge. The pair had frequent debates about history and philosophy. Even though Lorelai often found herself in blatant disagreement with the Red Prince's lordly views, she still enjoyed sharing opinions freely. The Red Prince expressed clear disdain for her principles, but Lorelai sensed that he was growing just slightly more open-minded. Or, perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

Unable to sit still, Lorelai summoned Bunny again and decided to distract herself by exploring.

xXxXxXx

Sebille crouched still in the darkness. Her gaze was fixed on a slumbering lizard ahead of her, a lizard Sebille had been searching for, and she smiled joylessly in the darkness. She was familiar with darkness; it was all she had known for years. It comforted her, it disgusted her, but, most importantly, it disguised her. The darkness was her advantage. No one could utilize it like she did, no one could thrive in it like she did, and no one could melt into it like she did.

"I did not expect to see someone awake at this late hour," said a surprised voice, low but with a slight huskiness to it.

Before the other had even finished that sentence, Sebille sprang into action. She spun and wrapped one arm tightly around the speaker's neck, her needle sinking into the throat. Sebille instantly noticed that her needle met with more resistance than usual, that this person was far more emaciated than normal. In fact, all Sebille could feel was bone. She realized that she was clutching an Undead, and she wondered if a needle in the throat would do anything at all. The thought was simultaneously chilling and exhilarating.

"I take it that you were _also_ not expecting to see someone awake at this late hour," the Undead said with a friendly chuckle and not a hint of nervousness.

"You caught me off-guard," Sebille hissed into the side of the Undead's hood. "No one catches me off-guard. Tell me who you are, or we'll find out just how many strikes it takes to knock the skull of that pretty neck."

"My name is Lorelai," the Undead introduced herself. "I do believe we met on the ship. Your roll for my fate would be quite incorrect if I died here, would it not?"

Sebille realized where she had heard the voice before: It was the elven woman who had been circling the ship. The woman had caught Sebille's attention because of her full-body coverings and her frequent passing of Sebille's isolated table. Sebille had sensed something strange with the elf at the time, and now she knew why.

"Well now, what to do?" Sebille mused with dark amusement, gently twisting the needle into Lorelai's marrow. "In truth, it does not matter who you really are, does it?" she purred. "You saw me here. You could dismantle my task before it has even properly begun."

"I did not intend to interrupt anything," Lorelai said with what sounded like sincere remorse. "I was simply wandering about and noticed your presence. I am glad you survived the shipwreck."

With the reminder that Lorelai had saved her life, Sebille relaxed her hold, but not enough to allow escape. "Your wanderings seem to take you to me quite often," she noted warily. "Why would that be?"

"I suppose I am simply lucky," was Lorelai's cheerful reply.

Sebille chuckled and removed her needle with a quick flick of the wrist. "Perhaps you are," she told Lorelai. "Not many have felt the prick of my needle and survived."

"'Felt' is not completely accurate," Lorelai said. She tossed back her hood to reveal a dark gray skull adorned with colorful ink, and Sebille offered her a grim smile.

"We almost match," she said, tapping the mark on her cheek.

Lorelai inspected Sebille for a moment, then huffed. "Bloody slavers," she snarled softly. "Disgusting cretins, all of them."

Sebille smirked at the repressed fury in the elf's tone. She relaxed and crossed her arms, regarding the Undead with a careful eye. "How about you join me to discuss these matters with Stingtail over there?" she asked, tossing a nod to her mark.

Lorelai craned her neck and caught sight of the lizard. "I doubt you will need my help," she said, "but I would be delighted to act as moral support or a threatening presence."

"Mm, good," Sebille purred in satisfaction. "Follow me, darling, but do keep quiet. This is my task." Lorelai pressed a hand over her mouth and gave Sebille an exaggerated bow. She next gestured questioningly to her hood, and Sebille mused for a moment. "Leave it off," she eventually decided. "Things are more… fun that way."

There was a muffled snort of laughter from Lorelai, and she removed her hand as she followed Sebille, her steps nearly as silent as the assassin's. The pair stopped beside the lizard's bedroll, and Sebille grinned to herself before clearing her throat politely.

The lizard woke with a jolt, and Sebille wasted no time in pressing one hand against his throat, throttling him against the ground. When he struggled, Sebille sank her needle into his abdomen. He managed a strangled yelp and gazed at her with fear.

"Who was it?" Sebille hissed. "Who sold me like a dog? Tell me now, you rotten slab of meat, and I might not tear your throat out with my teeth."

"I-I don't know," the lizard choked out, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head.

Sebille snarled and shoved the needle deeper. "Think hard," she ordered.

"It was…" The lizard wheezed, and Sebille loosened her grip on his throat just slightly. "All I know," the lizard huffed, "is that it was the Lone Wolves. Talk to G-Griff, the cook—that's all I know, I swear."

Sebille smiled. "Thank you," she murmured before tearing through his scales with a savage horizontal slash. She leapt back as the lizard's guts spilled from his body, blood spreading in a large pool. Sebille looked to Lorelai to measure her reaction, but it was impossible to read an unmoving skull.

"Effective," the Undead commented, "but perhaps overkill." She snickered. "Pun intended."

"Not at all," Sebille replied easily. "It was nothing but a simple exchange." She tapped her cheek. "He scarred me, so I scarred him. Extensively."

"Oh, then it was a rather merciful death," Lorelai corrected herself dismissively. "A shame."

"And there's the spine I knew you had," Sebille laughed. "I was wondering when I would see it."

"If you wanted to see my spine…" Lorelai tugged down her neckline to reveal a series of gray vertebrae. "All you had to do is ask."

Sebille could not help a grin from spreading across her face. Without further ado, Lorelai trotted forward and began rifling through the lizard's pockets.

"Fancy," she murmured as she snatched his belongings. She held up a large orange. "This has been a very… fruitful excursion." Once she was done laughing, Lorelai glanced back at Sebille. "I would be delighted to help you exact revenge, if that is what you are after," she offered. "I have a pair of companions with me, but they are amiable enough. We will be leaving this island after everyone's respective business is concluded, and you are free to join."

Sebille crossed her arms as she looked Lorelai up and down. The Undead seemed sincere enough, and it would be beneficial to have some help in both finding her Master and escaping this dreadful place. Sebille nodded once, and Lorelai clapped her hands.

"Ah, brilliant," Lorelai effused. "Had I known how many friends I would gain, I would have allowed myself to be arrested ages ago!"

"But then we might not have met, darling," Sebille countered with an innocent pout. "That would have been _such_ a shame."

"It very well would have," Lorelai agreed without Sebille's sarcastic edge. As she inspected a vial of suspicious-looking liquid under the light of the moon, she led Sebille back the way they had come. "I am surprised, I must admit," she added offhand, "by your indifference to my generally disturbing lack of flesh and blood. One person not minding was a shock, two was implausible, and now you are the third. Are the Undead losing their stigma as horrific abominations of mindless destruction and savagery?"

"No, no," Sebille assured her new companion with a smirk. "The Undead are as hated as ever—perhaps even more so now that sorcerers are as well. The Undead simply… intrigue me," she said. "I must admit that it was a significant factor in agreeing to join you. I do hope you don't mind if I… study you a little, darling. I have a certain fascination with death."

"Please, feel free to take notes and ask me anything you would like to know," Lorelai said cheerfully. "To save some time, let me say that I do not remember what it is like to be truly dead, my senses exist but are severely muted, and I _do_ have feelings."

Sebille raised an eyebrow. "Are those the most frequent questions you are asked?" Lorelai nodded morosely, and Sebille scoffed. "How banal," she sighed. "I have nothing specific to ask," she informed Lorelai. "I simply wish to observe."

"That… is a pleasant change of pace," Lorelai replied, sounding equal parts perplexed and delighted. "Most people feel quite the opposite."

"Darling, I expected you to notice by now that I am not most people," Sebille retorted.

"I do believe we will be magnificent friends," Lorelai said gravely. Sebille was unable to determine whether she was sarcastic or not, so she eyed the Undead suspiciously.

Either way, Sebille was not planning to make friends. She was in Fort Joy for a reason: to find her Master and kill her Master. Dilly-dallying with others would only slow her down, distract her from her single-minded goal. No, trust was never an option for Sebille. Everyone wanted to use her or change her, so she had to use them first. Hopefully, these new companions would be more useful than troublesome.

"Would you like to accost Griff now or tomorrow?" Lorelai inquired after a moment. "I myself have no need for sleep, but I do not wish you to exhaust yourself."

"Let us find Griff. Sleep and I have a… complicated relationship," Sebille said vaguely, trying not to think about the nightmares that refused her rest. She could never rest, not until her Master was dead, and perhaps not even then.

"My sympathies," Lorelai replied graciously. "If I can do anything to help, please let me know." Sebille said nothing in response, wavering between contempt and gratitude, so Lorelai continued. "Speaking of sleep, however," she said, "I would enjoy some refreshers on what plants and such induce eternal sleep for you mortals. I forget what is poisonous, and I do not wish to murder someone unintentionally now that I have mortal companions tagging along."

"And why would I know these things, darling?" Sebille asked with a quirked brow, relieved by the change of topic.

Lorelai snorted out a laugh and tossed Sebille a sidelong glance. "You are clearly comfortable with both stealth and death," she said dryly. "The combination of the two often implies knowledge of illicit substances. I apologize if I have misjudged."

"No, not at all," Sebille conceded. "We have just met, though, and all this talk of poison is harming my deeply trustful nature."

"I feel like I have done nothing but apologize to you since we met," Lorelai sighed, "but I do so again. Do not feel threatened by me. I have no desire to kill anyone."

"Really?" Sebille asked provocatively. "No one? Not even a… certain necromancer perhaps?"

"A certain…" Lorelai's head tilted to the side, then she gasped in realization. "Oh! No, no, Dominik and I got along swimmingly—assuming, of course, you are referring to the necromancer that raised me, and not some other."

Sebille had always heard that the Undead despised their state of existence and tried to revenge themselves upon their necromancers. Suspicious, she tried to discern any falsity in Lorelai, but that skull was impossible to read. Her body language and tone of voice were perfectly innocent, but Sebille knew better than to trust such things. She was a master of shifting personality to get results, and Lorelai seemed just as accustomed to stealth and death as Sebille was.

This would be grand fun.


	8. Slavery With a Side of Citrus

7\. Slavery with a Side of Citrus

* * *

When Ifan woke again, he felt an odd pressure against his stomach. Trying to move as little as possible, Ifan craned his neck and sighed when he realized it was only Bunny's head resting against him. He gently pushed Bunny off him, and she made a small hiss in disgruntlement. Bunny had gotten into the habit of leeching Ifan for warmth during the cold nights—or, that is what Ifan guessed. If not, then the serpent was simply a cuddlebug and used Ifan as a replacement when Lorelai was not present.

Ifan had to shield his eyes from the light when he sat up; based on the sun's position in the sky, it was late morning. Last night had been a long one, what with the Red Prince barely dodging assassination, so Ifan supposed it was only natural that he had slept in. A cursory look around their little camp revealed that the Red Prince was already awake and reading a boring-looking novel atop his bedroll. Lorelai was not in sight, which explained Bunny's presence. Lorelai was rarely away from camp this late in the morning, but Ifan knew she was more than capable of protecting herself.

Or so he assumed.

Ifan realized that he had never actually seen Lorelai fight, and he suddenly grew slightly worried. It was possible that she only used restorative or supplementary magic, relying on Bunny as her offense.

With that in mind, Ifan turned to the Red Prince. "Should we find Lorelai?" he asked. "She must've found something interesting last night if she hasn't gotten back yet."

The Red Prince sighed deeply but did close his book. "I suppose we ought to," he said grudgingly. "In truth, I have no idea if she can even defend herself."

Ifan looked to the Red Prince in surprise, unnerved by how similar their thought processes had been. He wondered if the Red Prince was growing fond of Lorelai at all, enough that he would worry about her safety. The thought made Ifan grin.

"Why on earth are you looking at me like that?" the Red Prince inquired, a note of offense in his voice.

Ifan just shrugged and stood up. "Take us to Lorelai," he told Bunny, and she seemed to brighten. As the serpent slithered down the beach, Ifan made sure snatch a parcel of rations so that he could breakfast along the way.

It was not long before Lorelai's voice drifted from a nearby sandbar.

"—a barrel of bloody oranges," Lorelai's voice grumbled. "Honestly, this is a tropical isle, is it not? Are oranges not flourishing?"

"Perhaps," a different voice drawled, "these fruits are a little more exotic than one might think."

"That is the only evidence so far that Griff is actually a cook," Lorelai noted.

"…Darling, the oranges are for smuggling drugs."

"Oh, then never mind."

The Undead, her hood thrown back to reveal her decorated skull, was rummaging through various boxes and bags surrounding the bloody corpse of a lizard. A vaguely familiar elf was hovering nearby, half-hidden in the meager shadows.

"Oh, now this is a lovely cloak, is it not?" Lorelai said, holding up a bright blue garment. She slipped it on and twirled. "How do I look?"

"Dashing," the elf replied with a mockingly amused edge to her voice.

"Why thank you," Lorelai said demurely. "I do believe I shall keep it."

The snake hissed savagely and slid forwards with impossible speed. Lorelai glanced over and squealed in delight. "Bunny, my dear girl!" she cried with both arms held towards her snake. The other elf jumped away as the snake wound itself around Lorelai's legs, drawing her body up Lorelai's ribs until Bunny covered her almost completely. Bunny rested her head atop Lorelai's skull and closed her eyes contently. "Aw, I missed you as well," Lorelai cooed, using one fingerbone to pet the snake's head.

"…A friend of yours?" the other elf asked. Now that she had moved from the shadows, Ifan could recognize her as the dice-rolling sorcerer from the ship. She retained her ominous aura even if she did not seem poised to attack.

"This is my familiar, Bunny," Lorelai replied. "Would you like to sleep now, Bunny?" she asked her snake. The snake flicked out her tongue in reply, and Lorelai snapped her fingers, instantly dissipating Bunny_._ She looked around, then used her freed hand to wave at Ifan and the Red Prince. "Those are the two companions I mentioned," she told the other elf. "Have you seen any oranges about?" she called as Ifan approached.

"I can't say I have," Ifan said as he kept a wary gaze on the other elf. She tossed him a feral grin.

"Bloody bugger," Lorelai sighed. "I found one orange last night here, so I was hoping the rest would be nearby…" She suddenly gasped and glanced upwards. "Oh, I lost track of time again," she realized. "I do apologize."

"No harm done," Ifan said cheerfully, keeping a watchful eye on the second elf. "I just woke up anyway."

Before Lorelai could reply, the Red Prince dashed forwards. "That… that is the Dreamer I have been searching for!" he cried, staring at the dead lizard in askance. He curled his lip at Lorelai and strode forwards, one clawed hand lifted towards her threateningly. "Did you dare kill a Dreamer?"

"Did I?" Lorelai inquired, befuddled. She seemed unfazed by the Red Prince's tension, but both Ifan and the other elf were prepared to attack at any moment. "I apologize, Red Prince," she said cordially, "but, had the chance, I would not change a single thing. I do not appreciate those involved in the slave trade."

"You were eager enough to be _my_ slave," the Red Prince snarled back, and the other elf whipped out a dagger. Before she could hurl it at the Red Prince, however, Lorelai held up a warning hand.

"It was nothing but a game to pass the time," Lorelai informed him calmly. "As I am certain you have noticed by now, I have no intention of waiting upon anyone hand and foot. Now, I would be delighted to help you find another Dreamer, my friend, since this one is unfortunately incapacitated."

"Just to be clear," the other elf purred, stepping forwards to stand at Lorelai's side, "the Undead did not oh-so-viciously murder your precious Dreamer. That _pleasure_ was all mine."

The Red Prince turned his cold gaze to the other elf and regarded her with even more disdain than he had Lorelai. "I see that you are a slave," he growled, eyeing the strange tattoo on her cheek. "You dare raise a hand against your betters?"

"I do," the elf said with dark mirth, "and I would be glad to do so again."

"I have executed slaves for far less," the Red Prince retorted dangerously.

"Red Prince," Lorelai interjected quietly, drawing the lizard's attention back to her. "Apologize to Sebille at once or leave."

"Apologize to a _slave_ who murdered a lizard? A Dreamer, no less?" the Red Prince gasped in disbelief. "That dismantles everything for which I fight!"

"Then leave," Lorelai said, her emotions indecipherable. "I do not wish you harm, as I am already breaking a promise to aid you, but nor do I wish to help you construct an empire of oppression."

The Red Prince stilled, his face settling into a blank mask, and nodded once. "I have no more need of your services," he told Lorelai in his usual haughty manner. He cast the dead lizard one last look, then stepped away. Ifan offered him a wink and a salute as the Red Prince departed, eliciting a soft snarl in response.

When the Red Prince was out of sight, Lorelai clapped her hands. "That was an unpleasant conversation," she said cheerfully. "We have more important things to do, however, such as finding a shipment of drug-filled oranges."

"You let him live," the other elf, Sebille, noted darkly.

"I still have hope for his rehabilitation," Lorelai responded as she returned to rummaging through the dead lizard's possessions. "He is not evil, and I am not violent by nature. I stand by a code of pacifism."

Ifan raised a brow, mirroring Sebille's expression of disbelief, and walked forwards to meet Lorelai. "You were eager enough to help me murder this poor, poor creature," Sebille said, gesturing to the lizard's corpse.

"And you seem just as eager to help me assassinate Alexander," Ifan added. Sebille shot him a surprised glance that slowly turned amused.

"I have absolutely no desire to impose my personal belief system onto others," Lorelai reminded Ifan. "I am certain many would find me hypocritical, but I am delighted to lend a hand in justified killings."

"Justified," Sebille mused. "That, darling, is a dangerously vague descriptor."

"Again, feel free to judge me as you will," Lorelai laughed in reply. She looked up and pointed to Ifan. "Sebille, this is Ifan," she introduced him. "Ifan, this is Sebille."

Sebille offered him a smirk and a small bow, and Ifan responded in kind.

"Now that we are all friends, let us join forces in finding this crate of bloody oranges so that I may free another friend from a cage," Lorelai effused.

"It does not take much to be your friend," Sebille observed as she made no effort to help search. "That is also dangerous."

Lorelai chuckled and looked between Sebille and Ifan. "If I had strict parameters for making a friend," she said, "then I would have not a one. That, my friends, becomes wearying after many centuries."

"Friends..." Sebille echoed thoughtfully. "A strange concept, and one with which I am not particularly familiar. Also, I would recommend looking at the crate near the water there." She pointed daintily.

Lorelai dropped the rug under which she was looking and rushed to the crate. She slid the top off of it and cheered. "Good eye, Sebille," she said. "Let us report back and free a kinsman!"

"Your kinsmen are not mine," Sebille stated with a soft frown.

"We choose our friends," Lorelai replied, "but not those with which we have ties. I shall always be an elf, an Undead, and a sorcerer. Therefore, my kinsmen are elves, Undead, and sorcerers. You do not need to like your kinsmen or associate with them, but do not deny their existence."

"You and your existential wisdom," Ifan commented as he took a place at Lorelai's right side, Sebille slinking forwards to hover at her left.

"Habit, I suppose," Lorelai sighed. "Talking to animals and oneself does wonders for the development of existentialism."

"But you are… very friendly," Ifan noted in a manner he hoped was not offensive. "How have you managed not to make close companions?"

"Do you remember my kinsmen?" Lorelai inquired with a laugh. "Elf, Undead, and sorcerer. Everyone despises at least one of those. Before you, Ifan, I was quite resigned to an eternity spent with the animals—unless, of course, I managed to find an Undead who is remotely friendly. Most of us live up to our reputation of being quite standoffish, and the friendly ones generally get killed or captured by civilized folk."

"Always glad to be of service," Ifan said with a grin. "Can't say I ever expected to meet an Undead, but if you want to be a Lone Wolf, you have to get used to the unexpected. And working with just about anyone."

"_You_ are a Lone Wolf?" Sebille interjected, her intense gaze fixed on him. "I may have some questions for you."

"No attacking Ifan," Lorelai warned her. "He is a good sort. In fact, he prevented Griff's people from extorting a defenseless little elf."

"Not for free, I assume," Sebille replied.

Ifan bared his teeth. "Lone Wolves do our jobs," he said. "Otherwise, we do what we want."

"And does your job include smuggling slaves?" Sebille asked. "Think carefully before you answer, puppy."

Unfazed, Ifan held her gaze. "I'm a mercenary, not a slaver," he said. "I can't say the same for all the Lone Wolves, but I'd rather make my coin doing more deadly jobs."

Sebille's teeth flashed in a grin, and her voice turned disarmingly friendly. "I do believe I have found a kinsman, darling," she said to Lorelai. "A killer."

"Nothing like common interests to form friendships," Lorelai said happily. "I am glad for you. I suppose that means we ought to find more killers to fill our merry little band, yes?"

Ifan surveyed Fort Joy, then smiled. "I'm sure that won't be too difficult," he said dryly.


	9. Life, Loss, and Every Other Indignity

8\. Life, Loss, and Every Other Indignity

* * *

Lorelai and Sebille stood in silence as they watched Ifan soundly threaten a cowering magister only a short distance away from his guard post. The other magisters were blatantly ignoring their fellow's plight, one even whistling to drown out the sound of sniveling. Lorelai snickered when Ifan grinned almost proudly at the magister, patted him on the shoulder so hard that the magister stumbled, and shoved him back to his post.

"Pleasure doin' business," Ifan called out to the terrified man. He sauntered back to Lorelai and Sebille, a smirk on his face that widened when Lorelai burst out laughing.

"Gracious," she giggled, eyeing the magister as he shame-facedly returned to his post and scuffed a boot in the dirt. "Sebille may have physically eviscerated her prey, but I do believe you broke that poor man emotionally."

Ifan barked out a laugh and clapped her on the shoulder in a far more friendly manner than he had the magister. "He's the Lone Wolves' contact, Magister Borris," he explained. "He wanted me to kill someone before giving me my information, and I… talked him out of it. Better to scare the piss out of some magister than kill a man for no reason."

"A mercenary with morals, hm?" Sebille observed as she studied Ifan with an indecipherable expression. "How did one such as _you_ become a Lone Wolf?"

Ifan's self-assuredness faltered for just a moment at her words, and he pressed his lips together grimly. "We all make our choices," he stated gruffly.

"Not all of us can," Sebille replied cryptically.

Lorelai sensed a growing tension between them, so she broke their little battle of wills with a clap of her hands. "What is your next step, Ifan?" she inquired.

"I'm to meet someone named Zaleskar in the Hollow Marshes," he said, his confident cheer returning as though it had never left. "He'll have some gifts for me."

"Zaleskar?" Sebille repeated in surprise. "That… is the same person I am to meet."

Ifan and Sebille gave each other suspicious looks again, so Lorelai laughed. "That does make things easier," she effused. "These coincidences are delightful, are they not? It seems the Lone Wolves have their fingers in many a pie."

"As long as you don't kill him," Ifan warned Sebille, "we won't have a problem."

"I suppose I shall try to stay my hand," Sebille sighed dramatically, "but my needle can have a mind of her own at times."

Ifan growled dangerously, and Lorelai wished she could roll her eyes. "We already lost one dear friend because of internal conflict," she scolded them sternly. "Settle your differences or learn to live with them."

Both glanced at Lorelai and made grudging noises of acknowledgement. It seemed they would rather simmer than resolve their conflicts, though, as neither was inclined to address the other. Lorelai guessed that their disagreements would eventually settle into grudging compromise, so she said nothing more on the matter.

"Now that we are all friends again," she said briskly, "I would like to return the oranges to Griff so that I can aid the dear elf in the cage. Is this acceptable?"

No one had any objections to this, so Lorelai led the way to Griff's kitchen. Griff eyed them suspiciously as they approached, tossing Sebille a fearful look that made her laugh under her breath.

"We discovered a crate of oranges near a lizard thataway,"—Lorelai pointed in the general direction of the lizard's corpse—"and the thief is quite dead." She held out an orange towards Griff, and he lunged forwards eagerly. Lorelai _tsk_ed and lifted the orange out of his reach so that he would have to hop inelegantly if he wished to retrieve it. He glared at her. "First, free my elven friend," she ordered. "Only then shall you receive your prize."

Griff looked as though he wanted to argue, but Sebille cleared her throat delicately, inspiring a flash of panic across his face. He nodded sharply and walked briskly to the cage imprisoning a sickly elf that Lorelai had noticed when she and Sebille had visited Griff last night to extort information. Griff had imprisoned the elf for being suspected of fruit theft even though the elf vehemently denied any involvement. Lorelai had promised to find the true thief in return for the elf's release.

Griff unlocked the cage door and impatiently held out a hand to Lorelai. She tossed him the orange, and he bit into it ravenously, peel and all, the moment he caught it.

"Ah, that's the stuff," he muttered. "Now, get out," he told the group. "I don't want to see any of you again, got it?"

"I have no issue with that," Lorelai agreed diplomatically.

The elf had tottered out of his cage and was limping away without even a word of thanks, so Lorelai followed him, curious as to what was so important. She felt a flash of pity at his sorry state, so she whispered a healing spell that caused his body to be surrounded by a soothing blue light. The elf halted and looked around. When he spotted Lorelai, his eyes widened, and he walked to her with both hands clasped in front of him.

"I am sorry for my rudeness," he said in an exhausted voice. "My name is Amyro. You freed me and now healed me, yet I offered nothing… If you would like to follow me to a safe place, I could return the favor."

"It would be my pleasure," Lorelai replied with a cordial nod. "My name is Lorelai, and these are my companions, Ifan and Sebille. Do you require any more aid?"

"You have already done more than enough," the elf said gratefully. He waved that the group follow him, so Lorelai obliged. She cast a fortification spell anyway, however, and he glanced back at her with a soft smile, his expression and pace no longer carrying a hint of weariness.

Amyro led the way to a sandy area not too far from the kitchen, and Lorelai tossed a wave at Buddy, a dog pining for his mate, Emmie, who seemed to have been captured by magisters.

"_I love you,__"_ Buddy told her before snatching the ball she had given him yesterday and squeaking it loudly.

"I love you too," Lorelai called out to him happily. Everyone nearby stared at her in shock, but she paid them no mind. "I promise I shall find Emmie."

Buddy perked up and dropped his ball. _"Emmie? I love Emmie!"_ he barked, then whined. _"I miss Emmie…"_

"You will be reunited soon enough," Lorelai said gravely, and he wagged his tail before delightedly romping after the red ball.

"Er… who are you talking to?" Ifan piped up from behind.

"Buddy, of course," Lorelai replied as she hurried to meet up with Amyro, who was standing impatiently at the mouth of a cave.

"Oh, the dog, probably," Ifan said. "That makes much more sense."

"The dog?" Sebille inquired.

"She can speak Animal Tongue."

"Ah, I knew she was a talented one," Sebille purred.

Lorelai laughed under her breath as she followed Amyro into the cave.

The interior was dim, but the lacking light did not hide the impressive size of the cavern. Lorelai was delighted to find it occupied by elves and children, all sorcerers. She picked up her pace to keep up with Amyro, who was now rushing to a young elf pacing under a small shelter.

"Saheila!" he cried out. "You are safe! Thank the divines…"

"Amyro?" she called, and Lorelai noticed a blindfold wrapped around her eyes. "Amyro, you have returned!"

Amyro gave her a tight hug and began to explain the events that led to his capture and release. While the pair celebrated their reunion, Lorelai glanced around. She spotted a familiar elf loitering nervously a distance away.

"Fancy meeting you here," Lorelai said as she approached. The elf looked up with a gasp but smiled at the sight of Lorelai and Ifan.

"I am glad you made your way to this place," Elodi, the elf they had saved from extortion, said. "I am grateful for your help. Here, it is the least I can do…"

She rummaged through a bag nearby and reverently held out a severed head to Lorelai. Ifan made a small noise of surprise at the sight, but Lorelai took it delicately from Elodi's hands. She gave Elodi a small bow, honored by this gesture of trust, and took a bite out of the head's cheek.

xXx

_Sorrow._

_I cover my face with my hands. I have just heard the news. The Elven homelands have been destroyed by Deathfog._

_Horror_

_What of my family, my friends? The land may recover, but the people__… the people are gone._

_Fury._

_I followed Lucian. I followed the Divine. And yet, it was my Order who did this. _They _did this._

_Shock._

_How__… could this be…?_

xXx

Lorelai shuddered as the memory ended, and she returned the head to Elodi, whose mournful expression matched Lorelai's feelings exactly.

"Thank you," Lorelai whispered hoarsely, still reeling from the depths of emotion. "I shall remember."

Elodi nodded gravely, returned the head to her bag, rummaged through it again, then approached Ifan with a folded garment. "I hope this can suffice as my gratitude," she said, handing him a worn leather shirt. "May it protect you in battles to come."

"Thank you," Ifan said with a gentle smile. "I didn't need any payment, but this will come in handy."

"I am glad," Elodi said. She nodded to the group once more and stepped away.

Lorelai finally allowed her barely suppressed panic to sweep through her mind, and she drew Ifan and Sebille aside to an empty area of the cavern.

"The memory," she hissed desperately, "said that the Elven homelands… they… the Divine Order… they destroyed everything… with Deathfog. Is this true?"

Both Ifan and Sebille looked at her in shock, then Ifan's face contorted with pain. "How didn't you know about that?" he asked softly. "The Order wanted to wipe out the Black Ring but the elves… got caught in the crossfire."

Lorelai stumbled back, her head swimming from the shock of this revelation. Her hand searched for something, anything, she could grasp to keep her steady, but it was Ifan's strong grip on her shoulder that kept her balanced.

"I'm… so sorry," he murmured to her. "It wasn't supposed to happen. The elves were supposed to escape before the Deathfog."

"How… how could you know such a thing?" she asked, struggling to catch the breath that she did not need.

"I… I was part of the Divine Order, remember?" Ifan said gruffly. "Lucian wanted the elves to escape, but something went wrong."

"I was in the… I was… in Silverleaf… the forest…" Lorelai stammered, vaguely aware that no one would understand. "I have not… heard… I was… alone… away from any news and… for centuries… I heard… nothing… oh divines…"

Ifan's hold on her shoulder tightened so hard that she could actually feel the pressure of his fingers. "It happened nearly a decade ago," he told her in a rough voice. "The Divine Order isn't what it used to be."

"I… see," Lorelai managed. "How many… the death toll… what was it?"

"Thousands," Ifan said grimly. "It was…"

"Genocide," Lorelai finished for him, her shock being replaced by bubbling anger. "The Divine Order _massacred _my people, desolated my homelands, and they have the _gall_ to continue existing?" she snarled under her breath, her gaze turning blurry with rage. Her skull was pulsing as though she had a heartbeat pounding in her ears, and she knew her hands were clenched tightly.

"That wasn't the—"

"Who ordered the operation?" Lorelai inquired, interrupting Ifan without a second thought. "Who participated in this? Who. _Specifically._ Did. This."

Ifan was silent.

"I do believe the Divine Lucian ordered the annihilation of the Black Ring," Sebille answered calmly.

"Lucian would never have intentionally harmed the elves," Ifan protested. "_Never_. I will swear to that on my life."

Lorelai slowly allowed her gaze to focus on Ifan's face. His eyes were filled with a deep, overwhelming torment that helped Lorelai's fury lessen. He cared. Ifan _cared_. That was comforting in some small, strange way.

As though sensing Lorelai's change in mood, Ifan slowly released her shoulder and took a step back. Sebille was staring at Lorelai thoughtfully, but without any other discernable emotion.

Lorelai regarded the pair in silence, then took a deep, calming breath. She straightened. "We have pressing matters to attend to at the moment, no?" she said as cheerfully as she could manage. "The past is immutable," she added, mostly trying to convince herself. "The present and future, on the other hand, are quite mutable indeed."

"Lorelai," Ifan said urgently as she headed towards Amyro and Saheila. "Are you all right?"

Lorelai halted and looked at him, trying to analyze his tight jaw and furrowed brows. "No, Ifan," she said with a soft laugh. "No, I am not, but perhaps I will be. Pain fades over time and dwelling on it only impedes the healing process. My kind will recover; we are resilient. This, however, is unrelated to our current objective."

Ifan gave her a stiff nod, and Sebille was scrutinizing her in silence. Lorelai shoved away her lingering sadness and shock before finalizing her approach to Amyro and Saheila.

"Amyro says you rescued him," Saheila said breathlessly when Lorelai reached her. She grasped Lorelai's hands in her own with unerring accuracy and made no sign that she noticed only bone. "I thank you with all my heart," Saheila said. "Please, tell me any way I can help."

Lorelai mused for a moment. "Does the name Verdas mean anything to you?" she eventually inquired. Saheila and Amyro both shook their heads, so Lorelai shrugged. "Otherwise, we are intending to escape this island since we have completed all of our business here. We will assuredly find a way to do so, but any information would be simply grand."

"I can help you," Amyro offered instantly. "I know of a sewer line in the Fort that leads to the Hollow Marshes. The entrance to the Fort is in the dungeons, and there is a hidden entrance not far from here."

"Oh," Lorelai said, taken aback. "That was far easier than I had anticipated." She laughed and turned to her companions. "I did say that there must be dozens of people who know how to escape," she reminded them cheerfully, "and Zaleskar is meant to be in the Hollow Marshes. This is all working out just swimmingly. Shall we leave?" The others gave her murmurs of agreement, so she glanced to Amyro. "How would we go about doing so?" she inquired.

"There is a button on the back of the shrine in the Ghetto's main square," Amyro said. "It makes a hatch visible that leads to the dungeons."

"A shrine…?" Lorelai inquired, trying to remember such a thing.

"You threw a hand at it," Ifan offered dryly.

"Oh!" Lorelai cried. "I remember now." She bowed courteously to the pair of elves. "Thank you for your aid. I hope to meet again outside this dreary place."

"I as well," Saheila said warmly, and Amyro repeated the sentiment.

"Let us be off!" Lorelai urged her companions boisterously, then led the way back to the entrance of the cave.


	10. The Best of Intentions

9\. The Best of Intentions

* * *

"Seems odd that no one's noticed this hatch," Ifan commented as Lorelai picked the lock of the prison door with her two sharpened index fingers.

"I have two responses to that," Lorelai replied distractedly. "First, the hatch was magically disguised. Second, the magisters here are impressively lax. The sheer extent of the murders and intrigue we have managed without reproach is quite astounding." Ifan had to concede her point, having been especially surprised himself that no magister had prevented him from strong-arming Magister Borris.

Lorelai hummed under her breath while she fiddled with the lock, sounding cheerful as ever. Ifan was watching her closely, however, aware that no elf, not even an Undead one, would be able to recover so easily from the news of the Deathfog calamity. For all intents and purposes, she currently appeared unaffected, and Ifan wished as always that he could read her expressions.

Ifan was keenly aware that he had withheld the true extent of his involvement with the Deathfog, but he could not tell her, not yet. Perhaps not ever. His failure still haunted him each day and night, and he did not want to lose his first steadfast companion because of it.

Sebille had noticed something, Ifan knew. She had given him an intense, suspicious look after Lorelai had seemingly recovered from the news, and she had been watching him carefully ever since. This elf was shrewd, dangerous, and self-serving. To make matters worse, Sebille's hatred of the Lone Wolves had already pegged Ifan as an enemy in her eyes. He did not want to incite conflict between them, but he would protect himself as necessary.

He just wondered whose side Lorelai would be on.

"Ah," Lorelai said softly when the lock clicked. "My brilliance truly is unparalleled," she added triumphantly. "Rather odd for someone who has no brain, but I suppose my brilliance is simply too expansive to be contained by some jiggly lumps of solid pink ooze."

Ifan held her back before she could throw the door open and rush into the dungeons. "There might be guards," he warned her. "Let me check."

"Caution takes so much fun out of existence," Lorelai sighed dramatically as she stepped out of the way.

Ifan held back a smile as he pressed his ear against the door, listening for vibrations or anything that might point to a watchman. Instead, a loud crash made everyone jump. An unintelligible yell followed, and Lorelai pushed past Ifan to dash out of the room. Ifan sighed while Sebille let out a peal of laughter.

"This _is_ more fun," she said dangerously as she swept out of the room as well.

Ifan followed, a hand on the short sword he had found in one of the caches about which the bear had told Lorelai. Sebille already had her daggers drawn as she followed Lorelai down the hall. Ifan caught up and warily eyed the prison cells lining the path of worn cobblestone. A dull impact followed by a hiss of pain echoed from a large room at the end of the hall.

Once they arrived at the entryway, Lorelai slowed down and walked into the room calmly. Ahead of them was a trio of magisters assaulting a man lying prone on the floor. The man was clearly incapacitated, unable to fight back, but that did not stop the magisters.

"Think your kind can sneak in here without us magisters knowin'?" the first magister goaded at the fallen man. "You're an idiot. You know what we do to idiots here?" He grinned and drew a sword.

"Pardon me," Lorelai said politely. All three magisters spun to face her, and Lorelai tilted her head to the side. "Could you direct me to the privy?" she inquired. "I have the desire to vomit in the face of such unnecessary cruelty."

"How did these ones get in here?" the lead magister snapped at the man on the floor. "How many more are you?" He gave the man a savage kick, eliciting a soft moan. "Tell me!"

"There is no need for this to come to blows," Lorelai said softly, drawing the magister's attention again. He advanced on her with a snarl on his face and a sword in his hand, but Lorelai did not flinch. "If you leave now, there will be no more violence. Return to your duties as jailers, allow me to take my friend there,"—She pointed to the fallen man—"and we will never have met each other."

"Sir, those are sorcerers," one of the other magisters piped up. He pointed to Lorelai's collar.

The first magister's eyes widened, his gaze resting on the sparkling collar around Lorelai's neck. He grinned savagely. "Well, well," he drawled. "Looks like we have some more idiots to cull."

"I would not mind being placed in a prison cell," Lorelai offered, "though it does seem rather redundant, me being a prisoner on this island and all."

"None o' you are leaving here alive," the magister snarled.

"Bloody bugger," Lorelai muttered, then stepped to the side to allow Sebille to rush forwards and slam her dagger into the magister's unprotected throat.

The other two magisters shouted and scrambled to ready their bows, but Ifan was already advancing on them. Finally realizing a bow was useless at close quarters, the first archer fumbled for the shortsword at his side. Ifan smoothly took advantage of the man's confusion to slit his throat with a quick flick of his blade.

The other archer had had the foresight to rush up a nearby ladder and draw his bow from a high platform. When he saw Sebille and Ifan head towards him, he kicked the ladder so that it clattered to the ground, preventing either of them from reaching him. Sebille threw her dagger, but the archer managed to dodge so that it only grazed his shoulder. The archer lined his sights on Sebille, who was now searching for cover in the empty room.

At this close range, any archer worth his salt would be able to adjust his aim to catch a moving target, so it was unlikely Sebille would be able to dodge. Ifan heard the bowstring creak as the archer prepared to loose and he shoved Sebille out of the way.

Ifan was prepared for a burst of pain, but he heard a horrific scream instead.

He looked up to see a searing plume of flame surrounding the archer. The archer shrieked and wailed as he stumbled atop his platform, writhing in agony.

Ifan looked behind him at Lorelai, who was casually leaning against the wall, one of her hands lifted daintily as she gazed at the archer. "Now, now," she chided in a friendly voice, not that the archer had the presence of mind to hear her. "I have had my flesh incinerated before as well. It is hardly worth throwing such an excessively dramatic fit over."

After another moment of listening to the man's screeching cries, Lorelai closed her hand into a fist. Instantly, the fire dissipated into steam. The archer tottered on his feet, his eyes rolling back into his head, and collapsed.

"Ifan," Lorelai said in the proceeding silence, "would you terribly mind checking if the dear magister is still alive? I may have overestimated humans' resistance to fire. I have no wish to see him dead, only to see his bones."

Ifan gave her a friendly nod and hefted the fallen ladder so that it rested against the platform above. A flash of blue light suggested that Lorelai was healing the man whom the magisters had been beating, and Ifan ascended the ladder as he mulled over why Lorelai had waited until the last moment to loose a savage attack.

Smoke was still wafting from the magister as Ifan regarded him. The man's clothes were mostly burned away, his skin blackened and melted in places. One half of his mouth had been annihilated, revealing the teeth and gums beneath. Both of the man's ears were nothing but charred lumps and his right eyelid had fused with the eyeball itself. Ifan was sure the man had to be dead but, when he pressed an ear against the tattered remains of the man's mouth, he heard a steady wheeze rattling through the man's throat.

"I can't say he'll be able to serve the Order anymore," Ifan called to Lorelai, "but he's alive. Barely."

"That is a relief," Lorelai replied happily. "A horrific maiming is preferable to death, is it not?"

"Eh, maybe," Ifan said as he slid back down the ladder. The beaten man was sitting up groggily, looking around confusedly at the scene. "Personally, I'd probably choose death to that bastard's future."

"It would be a shame for you to be gone forever," Lorelai sighed. "Most do not have my luck at skipping right past death, after all."

Ifan hummed noncommittally as he crouched down beside Lorelai. "Who did we save anyway?" he asked.

"My… my name is Seeker Gareth," the man said blankly. "I am… looking for a man named Verdas."

For some reason, that made Lorelai burst into laughter, her voice echoing loudly through the stone room. "How convenient," she giggled. She held out a hand to Gareth expectantly until he allowed her to hoist him up. "Off we go, then," she said.

"Off we go, indeed," Ifan agreed under his breath, tossing a last grim glance at the charred magister still wheezing out occasional shallow, labored breaths.

xXxXxXx

"So," Lorelai summarized, "the Seekers are a faction previously part of the Divine Order who are now rebelling against the Divine Order and helping sorcerers, and you are one such rebel?"

"Our goal is to raise the new Divine," Gareth said gravely. "A Divine worthy to be Lucian's successor."

"That must be simply infuriating for Divine Alexander," Lorelai said as she worked on the lock of one of the prison cells.

"The Paladins—another faction of the Order—are working to restore Divine Lucian's Order as well," Gareth continued. "Alexander is quickly losing his support and soldiers. Divine Lucian, as saddened as he would be to work against Alexander, would want us to rebel."

Lorelai sighed. That name, Lucian, caused a twinge of pain every time she heard it, and Gareth seemed half in love with the man, effusing about his wisdom and honor. Ifan also seemed to respect this Lucian fellow, but Lorelai could not bring herself to agree. Lucian was the one who had ordered the Deathfog, good intentions or no.

"I must ask," Lorelai said carefully, "who exactly this Lucian you quote so often is. You speak as though he is deceased."

"…What?" Gareth gasped. "You do not know of Divine Lucian and his heroics?"

"He has been mentioned," Lorelai said, trying not to snap at Gareth, "but I am rather behind on current events. Please, feel no obligation to be shocked, and simply explain."

"I… I apologize," Gareth said, clearing his throat. "Divine Lucian was Alexander's father and a great, wise man. He saved the world from his own adopted son, Damien, who aided the Black Ring in spreading chaos and destruction. Damien allied with the Void in some twisted form of revenge against his own father."

"The Black Ring…" Lorelai murmured. Now that she could think logically again, the name seemed vaguely familiar to her; she could not determine why. "They were the ones who got killed in the Deathfog…"

"Yes," Gareth said, his voice lowering into a more solemn tone, "as well as the elves. That victory had a… terrible cost."

Lorelai hummed and carefully twisted the lock. The door opened, and Lorelai peered into the cell. The others wretched loudly, and even Lorelai caught a slight whiff of rot. It took a moment for her to find the source, but her gaze eventually alighted on an elf who looked to be decaying alive on the ground.

"Why 'ello, love," the elf cried joyfully. "You's the one they talked about. C'mere. Lemme 'ave a lookit ya."

Lorelai approached without hesitation and knelt beside him. His body was covered in writhing patches of green and black, but he had a wide, manic grin on his face. When Lorelai drew close enough, he lifted his hand and patted her roughly on the side of her skull, where her cheek would have been.

"You're like me, eh?" he said meaningfully. "I can tell." He cackled, then allowed his arm to collapse.

"Who are you?" Lorelai asked him gently, but he only began to hum a tuneless song.

"Verdas…?" Gareth breathed. He rushed forwards and knelt beside Lorelai, his hands shaking as he stared at the elf. "Verdas, what have they done to you?" He made to touch the elf, but Lorelai caught his hand before he could.

"He is infected with mind maggots," she warned Gareth. "They are contagious to you."

"How… how can we help him?" Gareth asked her, his eyes desperate. "We _must_ heal him."

Lorelai shook her head morosely and moved Gareth's hands away from Verdas. "There is no cure for mind maggots," she said, "at least not at this stage of decay. There is nothing anyone can do."

"No… no, he cannot die," Gareth whispered. "He is the Godwoken. He _cannot_ die."

"He will die," Lorelai stated. "Do not fear, though," she added. "There must be others. Do not let this destroy you."

Gareth took a deep breath and stared deeply at Lorelai. She wondered what he saw, if anything, within the depths of her hood. "You are certain there is no cure?" Gareth asked hoarsely.

"I am," Lorelai said firmly. "I may not be aware of recent happenings, but I have studied these things. This man will die in agony."

"Then…" Gareth gazed at Verdas, who was still humming a series of cheerful notes in no particular order. "I suppose the best course of action would be… to put him out of his misery…"

"Yes," Lorelai said. "If you cannot—"

"No," Gareth interrupted. "No, this is my responsibility." Gareth took a breath, murmured a prayer, then halted the elf's music with one quick stab of a knife. "May you find rest," Gareth whispered before standing.

Lorelai looked around, then backed out of the prison cell. "My friends and I are sorcerers about to escape!" she shouted into the hall, her voice echoing through the entire prison. "I invite anyone else to join us!"

"Bugger off!" a man's voice shouted back.

"Oh, divines, you'll bring the magisters here to kill us all!" a woman's voice screeched.

Lorelai waited a moment longer, her hands on her hips, but shrugged when there were no other responses. "Time to leave, then," she decided.

With her two companions and a Seeker in tow, Lorelai trotted to the important-looking double doors and swiftly picked the lock. She pushed the door open and held it until the others filed through. She was prepared for a dozen magisters rushing at them, alarms sounding throughout the Fort, and a series of clever traps that would blow their legs off.

Instead, the group was met with a wide, dim hallway and eerie silence.

Lorelai led the way down the hall cautiously, prepared to use her magic at a moment's notice. There were Silent Monks lining the hallway at equal intervals, but they paid the group no mind. They stared straight ahead blankly, their stitched mouths never once moving. Lorelai recognized this magic and was tempted to kill them, to put them out of their obvious misery, but she stayed her hand. A cure was always possible, after all.

"Poor bastards," Ifan murmured from her side, gazing at the Silent Monks with pity in his eyes.

"Only truly evil people could do such a thing," Sebille hissed from Lorelai's other side, unbridled fury in her voice.

"A miserable fate, to be sure," Gareth agreed.

"Is this… the magisters' cure for sorcerers?" Lorelai wondered aloud. The others remained silent as they considered the horrific possibility.

"All the more reason to get out of here," Ifan grunted.

"I may have a route," Gareth offered. "A boy, Han, should have a boat that we can use."

"More bloody boats," Lorelai muttered unhappily.

"It does sound more appetizing than a sewer pipe," Sebille offered.

"Speak for yourself."

"I always do, darling."

Lorelai grumbled under her breath but acquiesced to Gareth's plan.

"Then we must leave _now_," Gareth urged. "Han is in danger here, and it is only a matter of time before the magisters in the prison are found."

"No, no," Lorelai objected. "I promised to find Emmie. I shall not leave without doing so."

"Lorelai, is your favor for a dog really more important than escaping this place?" Ifan urged.

"Yes," Lorelai stated sharply. "Yes, it is. Animals have always offered me more courtesy than civilized folk, and I shall repay their kindness without reserve."

Ifan sighed but nodded. "I suppose we'll be using the sewer pipe, then," he said in a resigned tone. "You've gotten us this far. I'm not running off on you now."

"I have survived far worse than a sewer," Sebille added. "Let us finish your errand quickly."

Lorelai bowed to them gratefully, her hands clasped in front of her. "You have my gratitude," she said gravely. "I will return the favor in whatever capacity I can." She turned to Gareth and offered him a small nod. "I thank you for your aid," she said.

Gareth sighed and rubbed his head uncertainly. "I am sorry I could not help more," he said, "but there is a hideout for Seekers and sorcerers in the Hollow Marshes. You will be welcome there. I… have no map to mark the location," he admitted.

Lorelai glanced at the others, but they shook their heads.

"I only have one of Fort Joy and Zaleskar," Ifan said.

"Then I shall send my familiar with you, if that will suffice," Lorelai told Gareth. "She and I have a link that allows us to know the other's location at all times."

"Ah, perfect," Gareth said, relieved. "I hope to see you safe and wish you every luck."

"Luck is for the unskilled," Lorelai quoted with a small laugh. Sebille cast her a surprised glance, but Lorelai only snapped her fingers, conjuring Bunny in a flash of green light. Gareth gasped and leapt backwards, his sword half-drawn before he collected himself. "This is Gareth," Lorelai told Bunny, "and he is a friend. Anyone whom he calls a friend is likewise. Would you terribly mind following him to his hideout and waiting for me there?"

Bunny flicked out her tongue and rubbed her nose affectionately against Lorelai's hand. "_I will miss you," _she said mournfully, _"so please hurry."_

"Yes, yes," Lorelai laughed. "I shall miss you too, dear one." She stroked Bunny's head with one finger.

_"You are my favorite," _Bunny said happily.

"Likewise," Lorelai replied. "Now, off you go. Protect my friends, but do let me find you unharmed, yes?"

_"Any enemies shall be dead before they can even scream in fear,"_ Bunny promised with savage anticipation.

"Very good, dear one."

Bunny nudged Lorelai's hand once more between turning to Gareth. She acknowledged the Seeker with a dip of her head.

"Do take care of her," Lorelai told Gareth sternly. "I expect to find her in the same condition as I left her."

"I… will do my best," Gareth said nervously. He gave Lorelai and the others a stiff salute and turned to continue down the hall. He frequently cast apprehensive glances at Bunny, who followed at his heels.

"I think you just terrified an almighty Seeker," Ifan said with a wide grin once Gareth was out of earshot.

Lorelai laughed and threw back her hood. "Inspiring terror is a side-effect of my existence, I am afraid," she said. "Now, we have a lost dog to rescue."


	11. Trust: The Gift

10\. Trust: The Gift

* * *

"Oh, how _pretty_," the man in this horrific room purred, his hand reaching out to rest against the side of Lorelai's skull. Ifan had his crossbow trained on the man in less than a second, and the man tutted disappointedly.

Lorelai had found the kennels almost instantly and had had a soothing conversation with one of the hounds. By the end, the hound had dashed out of the room, presumably to return to her mate, Buddy. Ifan had found a crossbow, to his delight, in the Huntsmaster's quarters. It was good to have a familiar weapon in his hands again. Knives and swords were adequate, but there was nothing like a good crossbow to execute a mark cleanly from afar.

The path to the sewers had been interrupted by a bloody torture room decorated with distorted experiments and mutilated disembodied parts. While everyone had been trying to take this all in, a hooded man had simply appeared beside them.

"Don't be hasty, my darlings," the man continued without moving his gaze from the Undead. "This, here, is a prize."

"Ah, I assume you are a necromancer," Lorelai said with far more amicability than Ifan was comfortable with. "Yes, I understand that I am quite fascinating to most of you, being a fully sentient Undead and all. Unfortunately, I have no time to converse with you. Perhaps another day. Shall we set up a lunch date?"

"No, you don't understand, my dear," the necromancer said, unmindful of Sebille's daggers and Ifan's crossbow aimed directly at his vitals. "This isn't a conversation. This is a _game_."

Ifan saw the man raise a hand, and Ifan reacted on instinct. A crossbow bolt sailed through the air and hit the necromancer directly in the throat, instantly halting any intended action.

Lorelai made a small "oh," but had no other reaction as the necromancer collapsed at her feet, his blood mixing with the pools of gore that already decorated the cobblestones.

Sebille sighed loudly and glared at Ifan as she twirled one of her daggers. "I wanted to kill him," she berated Ifan, so Ifan gave her a mocking grin.

"Hm, I wonder who he was," Lorelai murmured contemplatively. She reached down and delicately lifted one of the man's arms, pushing his cloak down to reveal the flesh beneath. She casually took a bite out of the dead man's wrist, then tilted her head back to swallow.

There was a moment where Lorelai froze completely still, her skull tilted slightly to the side, just like when she had taken a bite out of that lizard's disembodied hand weeks ago. After a moment, Lorelai dropped the man and then leapt away. Without a word, she rushed to the nearest implement of torture.

"Lorelai?" Ifan called out. "You good?"

Lorelai ignored him completely, and Ifan felt his skin crawl as he surveyed the twisted body parts scattered around this dreadful room.

"Lorelai, let's go," Ifan said more urgently.

"Give me a moment," Lorelai replied distractedly.

Ifan turned to her voice to find her leaning over the necromancer's worktable, rifling through the bloody tools and papers atop it. Ifan could not fathom what anyone would want of this necromancer's work, and he felt a bolt of disgust rush through him while he imagined the kinds of horrors someone could commit with such things. He did not believe Lorelai malicious, but it was possible her Undead mind inspired a curiosity for morbid experiments.

"Lorelai, let's _go_!" Ifan repeated far more harshly.

"I said to give me a damned bloody moment!" Lorelai snapped back, blatant fury in her voice. Ifan recoiled. He had never heard Lorelai speak so loudly or angrily. She was not even looking at him as she searched the worktable.

"I shall keep watch," Sebille said, gazing Lorelai with an odd, almost wistful expression. Without another word, the elf slunk to the entrance of the torture chamber and peered out the door surreptitiously.

Meanwhile, Lorelai threw back her cloak and snatched a few scraps of paper, holding them up to her face as she read them rapidly, then stuffed them into her cloak with a snarl of frustration. She next rushed to the necromancer's corpse, roughly patting him down, tearing through his robes as she looked for something.

"Gods _dammit_!" she yelled. Lorelai threw her hands up into the air in frustration before dashing around the room again, muttering to herself and cursing.

Ifan watched nervously, disconcerted by her behavior, and found himself placing a hand on his crossbow just in case. He did not want to harm her—the very thought repulsed him, in fact—but this was not the Lorelai he knew. This was far more savage, obsessive, _frightening_.

Lorelai ransacked bags, desks, even torture devices, growing more frustrated as she went along. She was rushing past a table when she abruptly skidded to a stop and gazed at the myriad of torture implements on it. She stared for many seconds, then slowly, carefully, approached the table. She reached out a shaking hand, hesitating once before gingerly grasping a contraption from the table. Ifan could not make out any details from where he was standing, but it seemed to affect Lorelai deeply. Her entire body began trembling, and she carefully placed the mechanism into her bag.

Lorelai took a step back, then paused as though something else had caught her attention. She gathered a pair of what looked to be blank masks and two jars that seemed to be filled with blue light, all of which she placed into her bag. That completed, she stood there for a long moment while Ifan waited impatiently. Finally, she turned and swiftly returned to him.

"I apologize for the delay," she said shortly, "and… thank you for waiting," she added in her usual gentle tone. "Let us depart."

"Music to my ears," Ifan said, an air of cheerfulness masking his worry. He wanted desperately to question her, but now was neither the time nor place. He waved for Sebille to return, and she studied Lorelai with a grave expression as she did so.

Lorelai was preoccupied and on edge for the rest of their escape. There were no quips or exaggerated complaints from her as they slipped through the slimy sewers, so Ifan suffered miserably in the sewage. He wished he lacked the need to breathe like Lorelai did.

And then, fresh air.

Blessed, dear fresh air.

Ifan stumbled out of the sewer, gulping down the clean air like a dying fish. Lorelai slipped out behind him but kept moving while Sebille began to explore the area. Ifan watched Lorelai with a keen eye as she looked around wildly. She loitered beside the corpses scattered across the ground, inspecting each one with morbid intensity. Eventually, she seemed to find the correct corpse—whatever her criteria were—and knelt beside it. She stuck a hand into her cloak, scrounging through her ribcage until she pulled out the device that she had taken from the table.

It was a horrific-looking thing, a membrane colored a sickly green pulled tight by sharp knives. Ifan approached as Lorelai gingerly placed the device on the corpse's face, the needle in each corner of the membrane pressing deep into the skin. Ifan stopped behind her, but she gave no indication that she noticed his presence. She only took a deep breath, placed her hands on the sides of the device, and ripped it towards herself savagely.

Ifan jumped back, barely dodging the resulting spray of blood. All that remained of the corpse now was a pile of steaming guts. Lorelai lifted the device to eye-level and inspected it carefully from all angles; plastered onto the backside was now a bloody glob of flesh. Without taking her eyes off it, Lorelai pushed her free hand back into her ribcage and pulled out her bag. She removed one of the blank masks from its depths, then placed the mask on the ground, covered it with the device, and waited.

A moment later, the device glowed brighter green and shuddered. It slid sideways, revealing an intact disembodied face covering the mask. It fit perfectly, the skin without tears or evidence of stretching. Lorelai hastily unscrewed one of the jars of blue light and delicately poured the substance out over the face. It glimmered before being absorbed into the skin.

Her hands trembling, Lorelai lifted the mask from the ground. She tossed back her hood and fitted the mask against her own skull.

Before Ifan's eyes, Lorelai's entire body shimmered with a soft light that quickly dissipated, leaving behind a stranger wearing Lorelai's clothes. The person, an elf of flesh and blood, hesitantly stood and turned to face Ifan. Her eyes were large and dark, brown like tilled soil, her skin a caramel color that was complemented by curled black hair that tumbled nearly to her waist. Her expression was one of terror mixed with hope, but it transformed into utter shock when she lifted her hands to touch her own thin cheek.

"I am… not dreaming, am I?" the woman breathed, and Ifan startled. She had Lorelai's voice. He was as dumbfounded as she looked as she lifted her other hand and began patting at the rest of her body. "It… it bloody worked," she said, her wide eyes fixed on her arm. "Ifan, it worked." She looked up and beamed at him, pure joy radiating from her person. "Ifan, it worked!" she repeated with a breathless laugh. Before Ifan could formulate a reply, she leapt forwards and wrapped her arms—arms covered by living flesh—around his neck in a tight hug. "It _worked_," she whispered as she lay her cheek against his.

Her skin—Lorelai's skin—radiated no heat and was impossibly smooth, but it still felt like flesh. Lorelai's body began trembling against Ifan, and he felt a sudden wetness where their skin was touching. It took Ifan a moment to realize that Lorelai was crying, that these were real tears streaming from her eyes, when she began shaking with loud sobs.

Ifan instinctively pulled her into a tighter hug and resisted the urge to begin crying himself. He held her silently, dozens of questions flitting through his mind, until her tears subsided into strangled breaths that turned into uncontrollable giggles.

When she pulled herself away from Ifan, her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, but she had a massive grin on her face. "How do I look?" she asked shyly, her voice cracking slightly. "I cannot believe I found a female elf so quickly, but there are quite a few corpses about. We ought to begin worrying about the implications of that sometime."

"How in all the gods did you manage that?" Ifan sputtered, gesturing to her entire body. "Are you… _alive_?"

"No, this is nothing but a sophisticated mask," she said brightly. "I can _feel_ things, though," she effused. With another laugh, she began patting herself down again, pausing to admire a lock of her hair. "I had read of such a contraption," she said distractedly as she brushed a hand through her hair. "Ancient technology that could create a mask to change one's shape. I had not dared to believe it existed, but then I found some hints in Kniles' memory—that was the necromancer's name—and I knew I simply had to try. I am still an Undead, the skeleton you know and love, but this mask contains magic that allows me to take on the face of another creature. I doubt I will bleed if stabbed and I have no pulse that I can feel…" Lorelai scratched her head, and her expression turned blissful. "I can… _feel_…" she sighed with her eyes half-closed. "Really, truly feel… This is brilliant..."

Ifan broke out into a grin of his own, delighted to see Lorelai so pleased. He could not imagine dulling his senses for centuries upon centuries, and having those senses returned would be indescribable. She would no longer have to constantly hide herself, to watch what she said, to fear people's disgust with her existence.

And, Ifan had to admit, she was a rather pretty elf now. Her skeleton was intriguing, beautiful like an intricate work of art, but this form of hers was attractive only as a person could be. What truly entranced him, however, was Lorelai's expressions. Her eyebrows and lips were in constant motion, changing the contours of her face in an onslaught of unguarded emotion. As a skeleton, she had been unable to smile, to narrow her eyes, to raise a brow, to do anything that expressed her personality beyond hand gestures and tone of voice. Seeing her tug at her hair and forcefully pull at her cheeks was enough to inspire laughter.

Hearing him, Lorelai moved her twinkling gaze to him. "I am happy to have even the semblance of flesh," she said. "Even those who do not despise the Undead are still discomforted by us. It is simply how people are. Perhaps now, people will be more willing to trust me."

"You know I trust you, right?" Ifan assured her, catching the melancholy note in her voice. "Whether or not you have skin doesn't change that."

Lorelai stilled. Her smile slowly faded, and her cheeks began to redden. Catching her blush, Ifan felt his own face warm, much to his chagrin. Lorelai cleared her throat and glanced away, pressing both hands against her face.

"Maybe I _do_ have blood," she muttered as she shook her head back and forth. "Um… thank you," she mumbled. "Anyway," she said briskly, "where did Sebille go? We, um, ought to find her."

Ifan jolted out of his daze and glanced away as well, unable to keep a smile from twitching at his lips. "Aye," he said slightly more softly than necessary. He cleared his throat to restore some volume. "Aye, we should."

"Brilliant," she said cheerfully. "Let us… do so, then."


	12. Trust: The Disease

11\. Trust: The Disease

* * *

Sebille smugly flipped a dagger in her hand while she retraced her steps to the sewer drain. She had left the other two in the hopes of finding her prey before Ifan did—just in case she needed to kill this Zaleskar. She had glanced at Ifan's map earlier and was delighted to see the destination just north of the sewer. She had headed that direction, and the first creature she had run into—an Undead with a caravan—had been Zaleskar.

A twist of the needle and a few threats later, Sebille had her information, and Zaleskar was unhappy but still 'alive.'

Sebille was fairly certain her other companions would be too distracted to search for her immediately. She had recognized Lorelai's frantic ransacking of that necromancer's workshop. That had been the desperation of someone just a hair's breadth away from achieving a lifelong goal. That was how Sebille felt every time she learned another clue of her Master's whereabouts.

Lorelai would be consumed by her desire to reach her goal, and Ifan would be close beside her. Whether or not he noticed, Ifan was strangely loyal to the Undead. Only after Lorelai had calmed down would either of them search for Sebille, though Ifan could even convince the Undead otherwise. They probably had not even noticed her disappearance.

"Sebille!"

Sebille paused at the sound of her name and looked around.

"Sebille, my friend, where are you?" Lorelai called out. "I do hope she did not leave," Lorelai said in a softer, mournful voice. "She was a very kind soul whose company I shall miss dearly."

Sebille narrowed her eyes; Lorelai did not sound sarcastic, but it was difficult to tell with the Undead. Nevertheless, she altered her course so that she could intercept Lorelai.

"Sebille! Do you think she is in danger?" Lorelai fretted.

"I don't think there's much that could put Sebille in danger," Ifan replied dryly.

Sebille grinned and slipped out from the cover of the trees to be faced with Ifan and an unfamiliar elf. Lorelai was nowhere to be found. Sebille tensed, her dagger raised protectively.

The elf burst out into a wide grin and rushed forwards. "Sebille!" she cried in Lorelai's voice. "You worried me! I apologize for my distraction."

"…Lorelai?" Sebille asked cautiously, slowly relaxing her grip on her dagger.

The other elf stared, bafflement in her eyes, then gasped. "Oh dear, I am still unused to this," she laughed. She reached up to her hairline and peeled something off her face—no, she peeled off her _face_—and reverted to the Lorelai's body of colored bone. "I found a mask!" she effused. "Or, at least, the means of which to make one. Is that not simply magnificent?"

"That is what you were searching for in the workshop?" Sebille inquired. She sheathed her knife as Lorelai nodded enthusiastically and replaced the mask, her body shimmering until it took the form of the flesh and blood creature again.

"I can _feel_ things, Sebille," Lorelai effused, her brown eyes glowing. She rushed forwards and gripped Sebille's hand in an unexpected gesture, causing Sebille to leap back out of instinct. "I do apologize," Lorelai gasped. "I did not mean to cause distress."

"No, no," Sebille said uncertainly. "I… do not know why I did that. I am simply… unused… to such things. I may be skittish at times, like an alley cat who has been known nothing but a harsh touch."

Lorelai nodded and grinned. "If ever you feel comfortable," she said gravely, "I would very much like to touch your hair. It looks wonderfully silky."

Ifan snorted with surprised laughter as Sebille stared at Lorelai's innocently solemn expression. "Perhaps… later," Sebille managed. Lorelai offered a brilliant smile in response.

"Ifan, may I touch your hair in the meantime?" Lorelai asked eagerly. It was Sebille's turn to smirk as Ifan began to turn red. "I would also love to feel someone's heartbeat," Lorelai effused, oblivious to everyone's disorientation.

Without waiting for a response, Lorelai pressed her palm against Ifan's chest, staring intently at her hand. A moment later, she laughed, then paused.

"It sped up," she noted. "This is… familiar…" She suddenly gasped and pulled her hand away, the blush on her cheeks only slightly less intense than Ifan's. "I apologize," she told Ifan sincerely. "I quickly forget the effects of touch against creatures of flesh and blood. This is… not the first time I have made this mistake."

"Er, it's fine," Ifan said. He cleared his throat and looked away only to be faced with Sebille's knowing smirk. "Ehm, let's… move on," he muttered, now staring at the ground.

"I did the same thing to Dominik once," Lorelai said conversationally as she smiled at Sebille. "I could feel his heartbeat just barely if he was excessively nervous, and I caused him undue distress unintentionally." Lorelai smiled warmly, her gaze far away. "I believe that was when…" She suddenly frowned and began walking in the direction from which Sebille had come. "Well, that is long in the past now," Lorelai said briskly. "Let us find Zaleskar."

"Oh, allow me," Sebille purred as she slipped to the head of the group. She could not help tossing Ifan a wink along the way, so amused by his discomfort was she.

"So that is where you disappeared off to," Lorelai realized as she walked at Sebille's side. "You wished to parley with Zaleskar first." She chuckled. "Clever girl, you," she said warmly.

"I was worried I might offend certain parties with my… methods," Sebille agreed, "and the pair of you seemed preoccupied."

"Ah, yes," Lorelai said with a pleading expression in her large eyes. "Forgive me for my neglect. I did not intend to abandon you."

"No apologies necessary," Sebille replied breezily, internally discomforted by Lorelai's sincere tone. "I am guessing that finding such a mask has been a long-standing goal of yours?"

"Yes, for a great many centuries," Lorelai replied cheerfully.

"Then it is only fair that such a thing takes precedence in your mind," Sebille acknowledged. "You have been patient."

"A shorter time frame does not diminish a task's importance," Lorelai stated with a soft frown. "I could be patient to find this mask because I did not _need _it. Avenging oneself on one's despicable Master is necessary. My mask would not leave; your Master might." She glanced back and gave Ifan a quick nod. "The Divine might also escape. These tasks are far more urgent than mine was, yet I have completed mine first…" Lorelai huffed out a sigh. "I suppose I can be of more aid while not hiding under a cloak at all times," she decided, "so it was not a complete waste of time."

Sebille raised an eyebrow, disbelief coursing through her at this Undead's flippant words.

"Speaking of your task," Lorelai added, "what did you learn from Zaleskar—oh, is he alive?"

"I did not kill him," Sebille assured the others with a dark smile. "He informed me that the man who stole me from my family, who held me captive, who sold me to the lizard… is named Roost."

"Roost?" Ifan sputtered. Sebille and Lorelai turned to face him. "Roost, you said?" he repeated, a shocked expression on his face. "You're _sure_?"

Sebille narrowed her eyes and nodded, studying Ifan intently. "You know the man?" she said, unable to keep the warning tone from her voice.

"Yes," Ifan said, looking distressed. "He leads the Lone Wolves. He…" Ifan pressed his lips shut and shook his head, a complicated expression on his face.

Sebille eyed him with suspicion but allowed him his reticence. She would discover what he knew one way or another, but Ifan clearly would not talk right now. Sebille looked him up and down, smirked, and returned to leading the group.

"If Ifan knows Roost," Lorelai said happily, "then it should be much easier to find him. I truly enjoy how helpful Ifan's connections are with Sebille's task." Sebille rolled her eyes. Even with the expressive mask, Sebille could not discern whether Lorelai noticed the rising tension in Ifan—both towards Sebille and Lorelai, albeit for vastly different reasons.

Ifan was suspicious of Sebille, for good reason; she wanted desperately to tear down the organization he so dearly loved. Ifan did not, however, seem suspicious of Lorelai. In fact, he was clearly developing an affection towards her. That was a mistake on his part. Perhaps the Undead really was this trusting, this obliging, but Sebille could not believe that, not truly, no matter how much she _wanted_ to.

As Sebille separated herself from the other two, Lorelai unexpectedly sped up to join her, leaving Ifan to lag behind alone. "Sebille, dear one," Lorelai said softly as she matched Sebille's pace. Sebille turned to give the masked Undead her attention and waited patiently for Lorelai to continue. "May I ask your opinion on an important matter?" Lorelai asked urgently.

"Can I refuse?" Sebille replied dryly, and Lorelai widened her eyes.

"Of course you may," Lorelai said in askance. "I understand completely if you wish to."

Sebille studied Lorelai, seeing nothing but attentive sincerity in her eyes. It was these constant little kindnesses that made her her doubt that the Undead was as false as Sebille had first suspected, and that was disturbing. It meant that Lorelai was just as uncommonly thoughtful and courteous as she seemed. Sebille was unused to honest, open people, but Lorelai had shown no signs of duplicity in the three long days of acquaintance. She was perfectly willing to answer Sebille's questions about the Undead, and she never grew offended even by the most demeaning of insinuations. In fact, she was incessantly cheerful and accommodating.

"Speak," Sebille finally said, curious of why Lorelai would be asking her for advice.

"What is your opinion on humans?" Lorelai inquired gravely.

Sebille smirked. "Ifan is irritating at the best of times," she replied, "but he seems to like you."

Lorelai blinked rapidly, then her cheeks grew pink. "That was not what I asked," she mumbled.

Sebille rolled her eyes. "Darling, it is what you meant. Coy does not suit you."

Lorelai smiled and laughed brightly. "Fine, I apologize for my indirectness," she said cheerfully instead of denying Sebille's words as was expected, "though I did mean my question. It was inspired by Ifan, true, but I have always had… bad luck with humans." Lorelei frowned, a faraway look in her eyes, and Sebille wondered what experiences she was recalling.

"Why are you telling me this?" Sebille inquired suspiciously when Lorelai did not continue.

"Few non-necromancers have accepted me as an Undead," Lorelai explained, "and fewer still humans—even though humans are the majority of my various non-Undead and non-necromancer acquaintances. Ifan, however, barely blinked twice. I am asking you specifically because you are…" Lorelai bit her lip and shrugged sheepishly. "Forgive my bluntness, but you tend to be suspicious of others."

"Ah, you noticed?" Sebille replied sarcastically, amused by Lorelai's apologetic expression. "I am not insulted, darling." Sebille took a breath. "The Lone Wolf is a mercenary," she reminded Lorelai without sympathy. "His loyalty is to money. You should not trust him, just as you should not trust me."

Lorelai laughed unexpectedly and gave Sebille a fond look. "I trust you, dear one," she said warmly, and Sebille did a double-take, "and I trust Ifan. That shall not change."

"Then what exactly are you asking me?" Sebille inquired, puzzled.

Lorelai tilted her head to the side with a similar bafflement. "I was wondering if you thought humans have become more tolerant, if they might accept me more readily."

Sebille burst into laughter but instantly regretted it when Lorelai's face fell. "I… apologize," Sebille said sincerely, after she cut off her amusement. "That was a thoughtless reaction."

Lorelai smiled again, but it was with a defeated sort of melancholy. "I believe that is a sufficient reply," she said.

"Ah…" Sebille sighed uncomfortably. "Understand this, Lorelai," she said briskly. "Most humans are intolerant and cruel, and the current Divine Order is not helping matters." Lorelai nodded glumly, but Sebille was not finished. "I personally do not like or trust Ifan, but he and I are not the intolerant people you have encountered," she stated. "Do not raise your hopes for the rest of the living, but the Wolf and I could not care less about following their narrow-minded views. That, darling, is all that matters."

It was not in Sebille's nature to offer solace to others, so Lorelai's beaming face was uncomfortable to see. "I am about to hug you," Lorelai told Sebille gravely.

Before the words had even registered, Lorelai leapt forwards and swept Sebille into a tight hug. Sebille froze solid, her mind shifting between panic and an odd sense of warmth, but Lorelai released Sebille after only a pair of seconds.

"I am glad I spoke to you," Lorelai said with nearly palpable gratitude. Sebille felt a burst of pride with which she was unaccustomed, especially when Lorelai dipped her head low in thanks. "I am delighted to have met both you and Ifan," Lorelai added. "I shall leave you be now."

Sebille felt a touch of disappointment when Lorelai returned to the Lone Wolf behind them. The pair traded a few words, and the Wolf patted Lorelai on the shoulder, a friendly gesture that made Lorelai smile as she looked at him. Sebille cast her eyes down to stare at the corrupted ground at her feet. Trust. That was an unfamiliar, dangerous disease, but Sebille felt herself succumbing to it.


	13. The Comfort of Kinsmen

12\. The Comfort of Kinsmen

* * *

"So many visitors in such an isolated place," an Undead standing near a decrepit wagon said in a friendly yet wary tone. This Undead was human and unhooded, revealing a black skull oiled until it shone. It was decorated with gold adornments that likewise sparkled in the setting sun.

"Zaleskar, I presume," Ifan said with a wide grin.

Lorelai watched him approach the Undead and offer a small bow. The two exchanged words, and a crossbow appeared in Zaleskar's hands, seemingly out of thin air. Ifan took it, admiring the tool, along with a green-tinted bolt that he placed in his bag. With a satisfied smile on his face, he returned to Lorelai and showed her the crossbow.

"Want to do the honors of the first shot from Shadow's Eye?" Ifan asked.

Flattered by the offer, Lorelai delicately took the crossbow from his hands and inspected it. It was a beautiful weapon, in her opinion, though she had never actually held a crossbow. From what she remembered, they were used by nobility on vanity hunts and rarely in actual combat. Longbows were generally easier to draw, required less time to reload, and had more force behind them. Crossbows were ungainly, heavy, and more complex than necessary. This crossbow, however, was lightweight and looked very durable. Lorelai tugged at the string, then realized that there was a mechanism to draw the string with ease. She played with it delightedly until Ifan placed a firm hand on hers.

Lorelai jolted when her skin tingled pleasantly. She glanced up at Ifan, smiled, and his face colored just slightly. He quickly withdrew his hand and cleared his throat. Lorelai waited a moment while he suffered through his embarrassment, then decided to put him out of his misery.

"I have never shot a crossbow before," she admitted.

Ifan blinked up at her and his expression cleared. "Ah, a shame," Ifan said, sincere disappointment in his eyes.

"I am proficient with archery, throwing knives, and ranged magic, however," Lorelai added before Ifan could take the crossbow back.

Ifan grinned and adjusted her grip on the crossbow before gesturing she rest it against her shoulder. "Crossbow's not too different from a bow," he explained. "The grip is shifted, the recoil's much higher, and the bolt will arc less, but the aiming is the same. How does it feel?"

Lorelai rolled her shoulders and shuffled her hands around thoughtfully. "Well enough," she said eventually. "So, I ought to adjust for the recoil and aim lower and farther to the left…" She shot a bolt at a nearby tree experimentally, noting the flight path, and then retrieved the bolt. With a smile, she reloaded the crossbow and glanced at Ifan. "Give me a target, my friend."

Ifan studied Lorelai critically for a long moment. Then, he pointed to a tree in the distance. "The dead one," he said. "Try to hit it."

Lorelai inspected the tree line until she spotted the target. She tossed Ifan a withering glare, so he smirked.

"Fine, fine," he sighed. "How about… the one with the red leaves." He pointed at another tree.

"A closer target?" Lorelai asked, surprised. "No, no, your first was so near that I assumed you were being facetious."

Ifan bared his teeth in anticipation and pointed out a target almost out of sight. Lorelai nodded in satisfaction and stared intently into the distance. She hummed under her breath as she aimed, adjusting the crossbow's placement and moving her body just slightly until she suddenly froze solid—one of the perks of being Undead—to prevent any shifting from disrupting her aim.

A moment later, she pulled the trigger, watching the crossbow bolt pierce through the air and hit the target dead-on. Ifan whistled in appreciation as Lorelai's body surged with delight and an unexpected wave of unguarded relief. She handed Ifan back the crossbow with a flourish and clapped both her hands in front of her chest.

"That may have been the most nerve-wracking shot I have ever made," Lorelai stated honestly.

"Even if you were an expert using a crossbow," Ifan told her with a laugh, "that would have been a challenging shot. The fact that you've never used one before…" He shook his head before shouldering his new weapon. "Nice," he finished.

"Why, thank you," Lorelai said demurely. She turned to face Sebille, who had been watching unemotionally at Lorelai's side. "Did you see that?" Lorelai cried enthusiastically. She was hoping for a smile to twitch across Sebille's face, and she was not disappointed.

"Yes, good job, kitten," Sebille indulged her. The soft smirk on her face could be sincere or mocking, but Lorelai hardly cared. Lorelai laughed and made to clasp Sebille's hand between her own before she halted, realizing her mistake when Sebille's eyes widened with an expression akin to fear. Lorelai instead gave her a cheerful bow. Sebille responded with a brisk nod.

"Ifan, why do you not show off as well?" Lorelai asked him playfully. She gestured to the forest. "Choose a target."

Ifan's smile turned positively feral as he reloaded the crossbow and hefted it onto his shoulder. "My target… that little branch just to the left of your bolt."

Excited, Lorelai clapped her hands and stared intently at the small branch, determined not to miss any detail of what was certain to be a brilliant shot. She was correct, as Ifan's bolt impaled the branch right in the center. The leaves shook wildly, but the branch did not fall. Lorelai cheered, pumping one hand into the air, and laughed enthusiastically.

"That was utterly beautiful!" she cried.

Ifan smiled with a self-assured twinkle in his eyes. "Glad all my practice hasn't been for nothing," he said. "Think it will be enough to kill Alexander?"

"Of bloody course!" Lorelai said, aware that it was a rhetorical question but still wanting to assure him. Ifan's answering grin was reason enough for speaking up. "No one else would dare accept a contract of such a magnitude, never mind have any hope to succeed," she added. "You, on the other hand, know you shall complete the contract."

"That is a high compliment," Ifan said, clearly pleased.

"Yes, should we all be so lucky, darling," Sebille commented impatiently to Lorelai. "Now, if no one minds, may we return to your familiar and find a way off this swamp?"

"Ah, you wish to leave so soon?" Lorelai gasped sarcastically, one hand over her mouth.

"Nothing would please me more," Sebille said, then paused to think. "Except, of course, if your dear familiar were venomous. That would be quite thrilling."

Lorelai laughed. "Alas, my dear familiar prefers to crush bone," she said. "A venomous bite would actually be helpful though," Lorelai suddenly realized, "as poison, venom, and acid heal me rather well." Lorelai tilted her head to the side and tapped her cheek thoughtfully. "Perhaps I can add an infusion," she murmured. "Bunny might enjoy that…" Lorelai collected herself and smiled again. "Let us be off," she said, pointing in the direction she sensed Bunny.

"Sister," Zaleskar called out before Lorelai could leave. His gaze was fixed on her, and he lifted a hand to beckon her. "One moment of your time," he said in his deep, rumbling voice.

Curious, Lorelai approached him and waited for him to speak.

"That little mask doesn't fool me," Zaleskar said too quietly for the others to hear. "I know you are of my kind."

"You are very perceptive," Lorelai told him. She inclined her head in a gesture of respect, and he chuckled.

"Tell me, little sister," he said. "Why do you mask yourself so? Are you ashamed of who you are?"

"On the contrary," Lorelai said brightly, "I quite enjoy being Undead." To prove her point, she pulled off her mask, allowing the light caress of the wind to disappear as she shifted forms. "I much prefer looking as I am," she explained, "but I enjoy the sense of touch that my mask allows. It is a difficult decision for me, but I choose a mask when reminded that disguising oneself shall keep the insufferably fearful from attacking me on sight."

Zaleskar chuckled, the sound rattling through his body in a manner that almost sounded painful. "Those are all good reasons to remain masked," he said. "The day will come, however, when such indignities are unnecessary."

Lorelai tilted her head to the side. "Truly?" she breathed, hardly daring to hope.

"We are growing in number, sister," Zaleskar said with satisfaction, and Lorelai could sense that he truly believed his words. "I know you have waited for far too long, but be patient for just a little longer." He pressed a bony hand against her shoulder, hard enough that Lorelai could feel it, and she bowed to him gratefully.

"I thank you for your kind words," she said gravely.

"Of course, little sister," he replied with a hint of laughter. "Perhaps we will meet again."

"I do hope so!" Lorelai enthused before she stepped away. She replaced her mask but paused before returning to her companions. "May I… touch you?" she inquired hesitantly. "I am curious as to how the polish of your bone feels."

Zaleskar laughed throatily again and gave her a nod.

Lorelai carefully drew her hand across his skull and down his cheekbone until she reached his chin. She traced the curve of his jaw, then pulled back. His bone had been impossibly smooth, more so than she had ever felt before, interrupted only by sparkling garnishments of gold that were somehow even more polished. The sensation was one she relished, and she was smiling warmly at her hand when her curiosity was sated. She committed this feeling to memory, storing it with all the others she had experienced.

"Thank you," she told Zaleskar, feeling oddly close to tears. "I know that it was a presumptuous favor to ask, yet you indulged me."

"I understand, little sister," Zaleskar told her. "There are no thanks necessary." Much to her delight, he patted her once on the cheek with his polished hand. He gave her a creaky bow and swept his arm in a grand gesture. "It was a pleasure meeting you…" He trailed off expectantly.

"Lorelai."

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Lorelai."

"Likewise, Zaleskar." Lorelai gave Zaleskar another shallow bow and spun around. She trotted to her companions with a wide grin on her face.

"What was that about?" Ifan asked. He seemed bothered by something, almost suspicious towards her.

"Ah, nothing but a kind Undead offering words of encouragement to his kinsman," she said cheerfully.

"And how did he feel, darling?" Sebille piped up, a knowing look in her eye that Lorelai did not know how to interpret.

"Wonderful," she enthused anyway. "I have never felt its like." She smiled and placed a hand to her cheek where Zaleskar had touched her. "I loved it. I love _touch_."

"I am glad for you, darling," Sebille said sincerely.

Sebille's gaze seemed rather fond, and Lorelai had the urge to pull her into a tight hug. Though she managed to resist that, Lorelai could not help patting Sebille quickly on the cheek just like Zaleskar had done to her. Sebille tensed but did not pull away, looking at Lorelai with narrowed eyes but without comment. Lorelai glanced between her two companions and clasped her hands together.

"Now, let us finally return to Bunny," she said.

"Agreed," Sebille said.

Ifan looked like he wanted to ask more, but he only nodded. Lorelai was grateful for that; she was unsure how to feel about Zaleskar's words. They were comforting, to be sure, introducing the idea of a world in which she did not have to hide. The implications, however, had been ominous. Lorelai had no desire to harm the living for her own sake. Most curiously, though, was Zaleskar's claim that more Undead were appearing. He spoke as though they were doing so without necromancers, as though something else were creating them. These musings were strange, but Lorelai pushed them from her mind to focus on their current objective.

"Stop right there, won't you?" the raspy voice of an Undead called out from the trees around them. Lorelai looked about and eventually spotted a skeletal lizard standing on a ruined wall nearby, her arms crossed lazily across her chest. "Look, I can't let you pass, so do me a favor and leave. Killing you seems exhausting."

"Ooh, are you guarding something?" Lorelai asked eagerly even as her other companions drew their weapons. "I would love to take a peek!"

"Guarding something? I don't know," the lizard yawned. "Probably. I've forgotten at this point."

"Then… why are you still here?"

The lizard gazed at Lorelai for a long moment, then shrugged. "Eh, maybe you're right," she said. She swept her hand towards the continuation of the ruins behind her. "Go on. I've been sitting here too long to care anymore."

With a smile and a bow of thanks, Lorelai and her tensed companions trotted past the lizard, who was now sitting down on the ruined wall with her chin resting on one skeletal fist.

"And I've always been curious to see what happens if—" The lizard's sentence cut off with a scream when she abruptly burst into bright flame and crumpled before everyone's eyes, not a shred of evidence of her existence left behind.

"Oh," Lorelai said in surprise, staring at the space which the lizard had occupied just seconds ago. "I… suppose we broke a curse, then? Or triggered a defense mechanism? Hm." She pondered this for a moment, then puffed out a breath. "Odd. I wonder what happened here."

"Do… we really want to continue after that?" Ifan asked cautiously as he eyed the trees with a new suspicion.

"I, for one, am curious as to what the lizard was guarding," Sebille replied.

"I am rather curious as well," Lorelai admitted, but she looked to Ifan for permission. After a beat of hesitation, he nodded. When Lorelai smiled happily, his expression softened, and he seemed to lose most of his wariness.

When the three swept past the first ruin, they were met with more walls of crumbling stone that was likely hiding secrets which Lorelai could not wait to unveil. When they entered, they discovered that they were in a sort of maze, the kind with deadly traps and interesting puzzles. Lorelai delightedly rushed through it, though she removed her mask just in case something tried to hurt her. She doubted her tolerance for pain would be very high after so long without the ability to feel it.

Finally, after dismantling the traps, they reached a fortress that was surprisingly intact. Lorelai spent a moment to magically detect any curses on the door and, finding none, opened it excitedly.

"—thousands of men, you know," an Undead voice echoed through the tall stone room to which the door led.

"Yes, we know," another Undead growled exasperatedly. "You have told us enough bloody times over the centuries."

"Will you two shut yer yappers?" a third snapped.

"Will you hurry up and play your turn?" the second retorted.

Intrigued by the number of Undead she was encountering today, Lorelai trotted forwards eagerly. She turned a corner to find a trio playing cards around a small table. "Hello there," Lorelai said cordially, and they all turned to her.

"Look, another experiment that was hiding away," the second Undead, an elven woman, drawled. "Grand."

"No, 'tis a worshipper!" the first, a lizard, cried. "Indeed, you cast your gaze upon the famed Necromancer Rask. There is need to bow. Actually, do feel free." He stared at Lorelai expectantly, but she was busy trying to remember if she had heard that name before.

"I said to shaddup!" the third, a dwarven man, snarled. "You get yer tongue cut out, but you still keep gabbing!"

"None of us really have tongues anymore," the second necromancer pointed out. "Will you hurry up and take your turn?"

"Rask…" Lorelai murmured under her breath. After a moment, she shook her head, the memory evading her. "My name is Lorelai," she told the trio, who were again distracted by their card game. "Who are you all? Why are you here?"

"Wait…" The elf looked at Lorelai and slowly placed her cards facedown on the table. "Are you not one of Braccus's cursed? Did you… get through the traps?"

" 'Tis impossible!" Rask said, affronted. "The obstacles created by my hands cannot have been evaded by such as these!"

"Looks like that trap you've spent centuries chattering about wasn't actually successful," the dwarf muttered, inspiring Rask to jump to his feet with an offended gasp.

"I am not of Braccus Rex," Lorelai said calmly, and that got the attention of all the necromancers.

"She says she's not one of that bastard's," the dwarf told the others.

"Yes, I was present to hear that," the elf replied. She looked to Lorelai. "I am Tamsyn."

"Gwick," the dwarf introduced himself.

"Ah!" Lorelai cried with a sudden flash of inspiration. "I remember hearing your names now! You were Braccus Rex's little minions! I had assumed you all had died, but I suppose I should have guessed that Braccus Rex would be more creative than a simple killing."

"Braccus Rex?" Ifan asked from behind. "The Source King? You know about him?"

Lorelai chuckled and glanced backwards. "My dear Ifan," she said warmly, "I was resurrected long before he was born. I remember his reign quite well."

"Oh," Ifan stated, sounding alarmed. "That was… a long time ago. Exactly how old are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"A few centuries past four thousand," Lorelai said, mentally grinning at the dazed expression in Ifan's eyes and the surprise in Sebille's.

"Four millennia?" Rask gasped. "Dost thou remember when I—"

"Shut up," Gwick snapped, and Rask huffed irritably.

"Listen," Tamsyn said eagerly, "we are imprisoned here because Braccus has us trapped. We cannot die, yet we no longer live."

"Ah, Soul Jars?" Lorelai inquired, and Tamsyn nodded. "Braccus Rex did enjoy those, if memory serves."

"Yes, and we have been here since he shoved our souls into those things," Tamsyn continued, "and no one has ever managed to find them—or us, for that matter."

"I would be happy to look," Lorelai offered, "though I remember the three of you being rather… cruel."

"I was a _genius_," Rask snapped, "and such methods are never understood by the common folk." Before Lorelai could reply, he waved a dismissive hand. "But fear not, we do not wish to be reunited with our souls. Rather, we wish to be put to rest."

"Smash the jars," Gwick reiterated. "We can't do it ourselves."

"We have all committed heinous crimes," Tamsyn said softly, "but… we have had centuries to think on them and regret our actions. We just want to be free of this existence."

"I… understand," Lorelai said unhappily. "Though I do not condone wishing to disappear from this plane, I do not know what you have suffered. Are you certain this is what you wish?"

"We've had a long time to think about it," Gwick said. "We're sure."

"I will do my best to fulfill your wishes," Lorelai said cordially.

"Good enough for me," Gwick grunted, and then all three turned back to their table.

With that apparent dismissal, Lorelai obligingly led the way out of the fortress. The rest of the journey to Bunny was filled with Ifan and Sebille asking questions. They were deadly curious about Lorelai's experience with the necromancers, but she had little information to give. She had not encountered their influence directly, having little knowledge of them beyond their individual names.

Additionally, she was distracted by the thoughts of Braccus Rex, having much to ponder now that she knew he was involved with this island, perhaps even with the Divine Order. She hoped that Fort Joy's location was coincidence, that they would meet nothing more of Braccus Rex's influence, but Zaleskar's words and the current fear of Source made her doubt that.

When they reached a cliff face on the south end of the island, Lorelai was close enough to communicate with Bunny, who instantly responded to Lorelai's mental prod with a surge of delight. Lorelai beckoned her familiar, and Bunny cut contact to focus on making her way to Lorelai.

"Bunny is on her way," Lorelai told the others as she inspected the cliff face in front of her.

It was late in the night by now, but the moon was full and reflected enough light for everyone to see easily. If Lorelai craned her neck, she could see a grassy lip that could be accessible by climbing the thick vines nearby. Lorelai put on her mask and hefted herself onto the vines, growing certain of her instincts when she felt deliberate footholds carved into the rock.

"I believe I have discovered the entrance!" Lorelai called out as she pulled herself onto the grass. Ifan and Sebille had already followed her, so they joined her seconds later.

An excited hiss drew Lorelai's attention, and she held out her arms invitingly as a constrictor snake slithered towards her eagerly. Lorelai laughed as Bunny twirled up Lorelai's body and rested her head atop Lorelai's.

_"Your head is softer than usual," _Bunny commented.

"Yes, I shall tell you all about it later," Lorelai promised as she reveled in the cold smoothness of Bunny's scales. She was distracted, however, by Gareth and a few other armored people rushing towards her. "Why, hello there," Lorelai said, waving cheerily.

Gareth squinted at her in the darkness, but his eyes widened when he noticed Ifan and Sebille. He held up a hand to prevent his followers from advancing on Lorelai. "These are the ones that rescued me," he said. "Forgive me for not recognizing you immediately," he told Lorelai as he studied her intently. "I never did see your face."

Lorelai waved away his apology with a smile. "My dear Bunny is safe, and that is what matters," she said, giving Bunny an affectionate stroke. "Would you like to sleep now?" she asked her familiar.

_"No,"_ Bunny retorted petulantly. _"I missed you."_

"You as well, dear one," Lorelai crooned. "Remain as long as you wish." Bunny nuzzled her face against Lorelai, who giggled at the ticklish sensation she had never experienced. Lorelai smiled to Gareth. "It is good to see you well," she said. She looked to the others behind him and offered them a friendly nod. "I am Lorelai," she introduced herself. "My companions are Ifan and Sebille. I am pleased to meet you all."

The others gave their names and occupations in this camp, and Lorelai listened politely, storing each one into her memory. While she was greeting everyone, Ifan wandered ahead, his hands in his pockets, and gazed curiously at the small camp. Sebille remained at Lorelai's side, a suspicious glint in her eyes towards all the people around her. She seemed ready to flee at any moment, and Lorelai hoped her own presence could offer some measure of comfort among all these strangers.

Just when Gareth was offering them a place to sleep, a harried woman rushed towards Lorelai with her hands clasped in supplication. "You are Lorelai?" she asked breathlessly once she halted.

"I am," Lorelai replied curiously.

"Gareth mentioned you could heal," the woman gasped, barely sparing a glance at Bunny. "Please, there are some injured—"

"Simone," Gareth interrupted her with a warning glance. "Our guest just arrived and it is late. I am sure she wishes to rest after such a harrowing day."

"It would be my pleasure to heal anyone in need of it," Lorelai cried without acknowledging Gareth. She gazed at Simone urgently. "Lead me to whoever requires my aid."

"Thank you," Simone whispered, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "This way. Thank you."

Lorelai followed, but not before checking if Sebille wanted to join. Sebille nodded wordlessly, her eyes passing warily across the camp, and stuck close to Lorelai's side as they moved along the path. Sebille began to chuckle quietly; at Lorelai's questioning look, she nodded subtly to a group of soldiers staring wide-eyed at Bunny. Lorelai smiled as well and waved to them. One of them paled dangerously and another glared. Both Lorelai and Sebille began to snicker when Bunny hissed at the soldiers, causing all of them to realize they had very important matters to attend to somewhere else.

When they arrived at the makeshift first aid tent, Lorelai cast the first healing on an elf collapsed on his back, his breathing labored. The elf immediately sat up groggily, but Lorelai moved to heal the other two, a dwarf and a lizard, before he could say a word. Once all three patients were healed, Lorelai rolled her shoulders, trying to dispel the weariness that so much magic used in such a short time caused, and Sebille rested a hand on Lorelai's arm to keep her from stumbling. Lorelai gave Sebille a grateful smile that Sebille acknowledged with a curt nod.

"Is there anything else I might do to help?" Lorelai asked Simone, who was fussing over her newly healed patients.

"No, no, thank you," Simone breathed. "If you would like, one of our sorcerers, Leya, can remove those collars of yours. Just tell her that you saved Gareth and that I sent you her way."

"Oh, that would be wonderful!" Lorelai cheered. "You have my gratitude."

"No, you have mine!" Simone replied. "It is the least I could do."

"Nonsense, I require no payment for such a simple task," Lorelai dismissed.

"You likely saved these three's lives! This favor is nothing compared—"

"Enough," Sebille interrupted. She sent Lorelai an exasperated glance. "We understand. Both of you are grateful to one another. Do you mind terribly if we got these collars off now?"

Lorelai laughed loudly and gave Sebille a wide grin. "I agree to your terms," she said cheerfully. Lorelai tossed one more wave to Simone and the healed patients before heading into the direction in which Simone had indicated. She snapped her fingers to dissipate the napping Bunny and smirked. It was time to be reunited with her full powers.


	14. Source, Sunshine, and Stories

13\. Source, Sunshine, and Stories

* * *

"Ah, it feels marvelous to be at full power again," Lorelai sighed happily. She flexed her fingers, delighted by the Source humming through her body, and resisted the urge to cast her spells just because she could. "Over a month without Source was more taxing than I had anticipated."

"A month?" Ifan asked, rubbing his neck where the Source collar had been. "I had that on for less than three weeks."

"Likewise," Sebille said. "As necessary as it was, it feels wonderful to get out of that collar."

"I suppose I was captured before the two of you, then," Lorelai mused. "They put the collar on me and placed me in a dreadful little cage. I sat there for a good week before the magisters shuffled me onto their ship, and we stopped at the Reaper's Coast a few days later."

"Oh, I only spent a day in one of those damned cages," Ifan said with a sympathetic glance to her. "I'd hate to have sat there for so long."

"As someone who does not grow terribly uncomfortable or require sustenance," Lorelai said, "the most I suffered was the utter boredom. I had some interesting conversations with the rats and such, at least."

"I did not allow the magisters to cage me," Sebille said darkly. "I simply walked to the magisters before they cast off, declared myself a sorcerer, and allowed myself to be escorted onto their ship. I had tracked my prey to Fort Joy, so that was where I needed to be."

"I was there for my contract," Ifan said. "I did the same thing as Sebille, but because I need to kill Alexander. Where were you?"

"Silverleaf Forest," Lorelai replied. All she received were questioning looks. "Farther north," she clarified. "East of Verdistis. I was simply wandering through the forest when I was set upon by magisters and crossbow-wielding Source Hounds. I allowed them to take me captive and am glad I did so. It has been quite an interesting journey thus far."

"You did not fight capture even though you had nothing to do in Fort Joy?" Sebille inquired with an eyebrow raised. "I did not think you so meek, darling."

Lorelai laughed and grinned at Sebille. "I have been hunted before," she explained, "and I find that it is far less troublesome to allow oneself to be captured than to spend one's days on the run. You agree, do you not?" she inquired innocently.

Sebille looked surprised, but the expression lasted barely a heartbeat before it was replaced by a smirk. "True enough, darling," she said. "True enough."

"It is rather amusing," Lorelai added with another laugh, "that the magisters think so highly of themselves when I am the only one out of the three of us who was taken against her will. Even then, I could have evaded capture had I chosen to do so. Perhaps these magisters are not the almighty Source hunters they think they are."

"The Divine Order's gotten far more arrogant since Lucian passed," Ifan grunted. "It is not a positive change."

"Mm, they do seem to be trying to emulate Braccus Rex in many ways," Lorelai murmured thoughtfully to herself. She leaned back on her hands, staring up at the stars in the dark sky as a chilly wind whisked across her skin.** "**I spoke to the sentry earlier," Lorelai revealed, "and she informed me that the magisters were here to recover artefacts and rituals of Braccus Rex, and then we met those cursed necromancers…" Lorelai hummed softly and mulled over the implications of the magisters dabbling into Braccus Rex's experiments. "Braccus Rex did many horrific things to those with Source," she finally said. "The Silent Monks and Watchers result from a Source purge recovered by Braccus Rex, and…"

Lorelai hesitated once more as she wondered if she ought to explain some of her fears to her companions. She did not want to frighten them for no reason, but she decided that they deserved to be able to prepare for the worst. She often underestimated the resilience of living creatures, and this sense of entitlement she had was something she had struggled with even while alive. She had to remind herself that she did not necessarily know better than others. She did not have the right impose her beliefs on others.

"Braccus Rex used to crucify sorcerers and infect their minds to attack other sorcerers, killing them and taking their Source." Lorelai shuddered as she remembered the evidence of such experiments. "He trapped souls and locked them in vaults, he tortured his allies and enemies alike, he enslaved the Undead, he massacred entire cities just for the Source—all to built an empire founded on terror and destruction. I am not often fearful for my own destruction, but I remained in hiding during most of that man's reign. If the magisters are attempting to reimplement his methods, then…"

Lorelai clenched one hand into a fist and felt her nails dig into her palm accompanied by a sharp, unfamiliar sting on her skin. She tightened her grip. The sensation helped her focus.

"I do not wish to witness more senseless mass graves caused by arrogant fanatics who know not the power they are attempting to harness," Lorelai implored her companions. "The elves were already massacred from the highly dangerous Deathfog"—Ifan closed his eyes for a moment at that reminder—"and the sorcerers seem to be next. Braccus Rex was sick and selfish." She took a deep breath before she succumbed to the simmering fury rising in her gut. "Histories do not do his cruelty justice," Lorelai said with soft tranquility. "We must not allow the magisters to fiddle with such things."

"Just one more reason to kill Alexander," Ifan said with a lighthearted smirk. "We'll keep these magisters in line, Lorelai. Don't you worry."

"I do hope so," Lorelai murmured, but she knew the problem was far deeper than Bishop Alexander. With a sigh, Lorelai gazed at her palm and the marks her fingernails had made in the skin. Her palm still stung strangely, so she waved it about to throw away the insistent tingling. It did not work. "I must say," Lorelai began distractedly, "that, although I am enjoying this mask, some of these sensations are less than pleasant. Pain, I suppose. I had… forgotten about it."

"Then you are more lucky than you realize," Sebille said from beside Lorelai. She was staring at the marks on Lorelai's palm as well, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Perhaps," Lorelai agreed diplomatically. She waved her hand about again, trying to get used to the sight of tanned flesh covering her beloved bones. "I do much prefer my true appearance," she lamented. "It is a shame that I must hide it constantly."

"Small-minded creatures abound," Sebille said lazily. She stretched out on her back and gazed up at the sky. "The world is vast," she commented in a softer voice. "Why are its inhabitants so… exclusive?"

"Everyone has their personal worlds, dear one," Lorelai replied in a comforting tone. Sebille turned her head to study Lorelai impassively, so Lorelai smiled with a gentle warmth. "Such worlds can be physical or mental, but they are all frightening to leave behind. I myself seem to have been in my own world for too long."

"I only just escaped mine," Sebille murmured, "and yet I'm still…" She sighed and turned away again. "Physical or mental," she recited, "or, perhaps, both."

Lorelai nodded and ventured to give Sebille a soft pat on the head. Sebille inhaled quickly but did not move away or object. From the momentary touch, Lorelai was delighted to discover that Sebille's hair was just as soft as it looked. She smiled at her hand for a few moments, relishing the texture, and closed her eyes so that she could enjoy the chilly breeze of the night.

"You all ought to get some rest," Lorelai said softly. "I shall keep watch."

Ifan yawned, easily descending into sleep, but Sebille's cat-like eyes glinted in the darkness for many more minutes before she eventually rolled on her side with a deep breath. Lorelai sat in silence for a few hours but was distracted by Sebille's occasional twitches and furious hisses that implied rather intense nightmares. Hoping she was not crossing a line, Lorelai cast a spell that would clear Sebille's mind. Sebille relaxed almost immediately, and her breath deepened into a comfortable rhythm. Lorelai smiled and returned to staring at the stars.

xXxXxXx

Sebille awoke feeling more rested than she ever had before. When her eyes fluttered open, she saw a bright blue sky and allowed herself a small smile. Every time she tried to sleep, every time night fell, she retained the nagging worry that she would never see the light again. The light, no matter how alien it was to her still, was her hope, and it was still here.

Sebille wondered if she should return to sleep, as she felt relaxed, content, but a gentle caress upon her head surprised her. She glanced upwards and spotted Lorelai gazing up at the sun with a rapturous expression. Her hand seemed to be tangled in Sebille's hair, massaging her skull with a soft touch.

Sebille shifted slightly, and Lorelai removed her hand. Her face turned to Sebille, a tender smile on her lips. "Did you sleep well?" she inquired.

Sebille narrowed her eyes and sat up. "Why do you ask?" she said suspiciously.

Lorelai's expression turned sheepish, and she gave Sebille one last motherly pat on the head before folding both hands in her lap. "I… cast a small spell to clear your mind," she admitted. "I shall not do so again if you consider it an invasion of privacy, but I thought it might help with the nightmares."

Sebille studied Lorelai, trying hard to discern any malice or mockery, but there was nothing but kind warmth in the Undead's gaze. "I do… appreciate the thought," Sebille said hesitantly. "Could you, perhaps, teach me the spell?"

"I may be able to teach you," Lorelai said, "but… one cannot use it on oneself. It must be cast by an individual with inner peace, an individual who does not need the spell at the moment it is cast."

"Ah, a shame," Sebille murmured, and she meant it. She was hesitant to trust another person with her mental state, but she relished her current peace of mind enough that she would take the risk. "I will… accept your aid," she said uncomfortably, "but only if I ask. Don't cast a spell without my knowledge."

Lorelai grinned widely and nodded. "It would be my absolute delight," she replied as though Sebille were the one doing Lorelai the favor. Lorelai hummed happily and poked Ifan on the cheek. He instantly sat up with a snort, a dagger in his hand and a ferocious glint in his eye. "Both of you are so skittish," Lorelai said as she regarded them disapprovingly. "Gracious, you all need a hug and a warm bowl of stew. I do not believe you would appreciate my stew, but I am willing to give everyone a hug."

Sebille and Ifan both stared at her uncomprehendingly, but her sweet smile did not once falter. Apparently taking that as acceptance, Lorelai leaned forward and pulled Sebille into a quick hug that elicited a sharp jolt of surprise. Leaving Sebille dazed, Lorelai made to do the same to Ifan, but she paused as though thinking better of it. Instead, she patted him gently on the cheek. Sebille saw Ifan's face flame, but Lorelai had already turned away. Sebille and Ifan traded a glance, wordlessly communicating identical bafflement.

Lorelai swayed back and forth on the grass between them, a brilliant grin on her face as she closed her eyes and basked in the glow of the morning sun. "I do apologize for the overt affection," she murmured happily, "but I… adore the sunshine. I have been waiting thousands of years to feel the sunshine again. I am so very happy right now…" She trailed off and slowly leaned back until she was fully lying down with a contented sigh.

"Why, out of all things," Sebille asked carefully, "does the sunlight affect you so?"

"One of the fondest memories of my mortal life is of the touch of the sun," Lorelai mumbled sleepily. "I remember lying on the warm grass and feeling at peace, yet I could never replicate the sensation. Until now," she added in a whisper. "Until now…"

Ifan's expression transformed into one of unbridled affection, and he patted Lorelai gently on the hand before standing upright. "Enjoy the sunshine," he told her with a laugh. "I'll find some information on how these people can help get us off this island."

"…Be sure to inquire about Braccus Rex," Lorelai slurred. "I must know of his influence."

"I'll do that," Ifan promised. He winked at Sebille and sauntered away.

Sebille wondered if she ought to leave as well, but she was uneasy surrounded by so many strangers, some of whom were lizards. Ifan she tolerated, but he was still a Lone Wolf, a killer by nature, possibly aware of her capture and enslavement. Lorelai, however, Sebille was beginning to like, to allow through her guard. To trust. Thus, she curled up on the grass herself and tried to follow Lorelai's peaceful example.

"…What is your story, dear one?" Lorelai drowsily interrupted Sebille's attempt at relaxation. "If you wish to tell it, of course."

Sebille remained silent for a long moment, wondering if she ought to pretend to be asleep to avoid answering.

"Sebille," Lorelai called out in a singsong voice. "I know you are awake."

Sebille sighed heavily and opened her eyes to gaze up at the cloudless sky. "First, tell me your story," she stated, deciding to compromise with a barter.

"I have a very long story, dear one," Lorelai laughed. "How detailed would you like me to be?"

"Your choice," Sebille said lazily. "I won't force you to speak of matters you would rather keep to yourself."

"Well," Lorelai began thoughtfully, "the first thing I remember after dying is waking up strapped to a table with a body made of bone that I knew should be covered in flesh. It was utterly terrifying. Then, a strange little human man grew panicked and started babbling at me in a language that I did not speak. I could understand him, thankfully, but he could not understand me. He kept me strapped to the table for a month until he felt so guilty that he released me."

Sebille quietly sat up and inspected Lorelai, surprised to see a small smile on her face. Lorelai looked content, nostalgic, unlike the implications of her words. Perhaps it was simply the sunshine relaxing Lorelai, yet Sebille did remember Lorelai mentioning that she and her necromancer were friends.

"Keep in mind that I was alive and died in the times before elves integrated themselves with humans and other races," Lorelai continued, "and we still spoke our own language. I had spent all of my mortal life seeing only a half dozen humans or so—and nothing of the other races. Verdistis had not yet been constructed, and the forests of my people stretched across the entire region. There were a pair of human settlements within the forest—the village of Silverleaf being one of them—but we rarely came into contact."

"That was a very long time ago, then," Sebille murmured, "though I suppose four thousand years would suffice."

"I may be old," Lorelai said cheekily, "but I am hardly decrepit." She lifted one arm and waved it in the air. "See? All flesh. No bone or rot to be seen."

Sebille chuckled and rolled her eyes. "So," she said briskly, "you awoke to a strange human who had you strapped to a table. And then what happened?"

"Oh, Dominik and I grew to be magnificent friends," Lorelai replied, "and I lived with him for fifty years until he died. I remained in the forest for another decade or so, until I decided to explore the world. I made some friends, but they died rather quickly—as mortals do—or discovered my identity as an Undead and attempted to slaughter me."

"Pleasant," Sebille commented, and Lorelai grinned again though her eyes remained shut.

"Yes, it became troublesome after a time," Lorelai admitted. "I traveled the world for more centuries without doing much socializing. I spent much time in the Elven Homelands…" Lorelai trailed off, her smile fading. After only a moment, however, Lorelai opened one eye and stuck her tongue out at Sebille. "I also visited lizard's empire," she said, "and freed many slaves such as you."

Sebille blinked rapidly and leaned forwards so that she could peer at Lorelai's face. "Truly?" she whispered. "Why have you never mentioned this?"

Lorelai chuckled and closed her eye. "We have known each other for less than a week, dear one," she reminded Sebille. "Even I would have some difficulty recounting my entire lifeless story in such a short time, especially with all the events occurring recently."

"Yes, of course," Sebille said, slightly unnerved by the reminder that she had met Lorelai only days ago. "Go on."

"Mm, yes," Lorelai yawned. "I wandered more and visited other empires. I especially adore the imps. They are a marvelous cultue—their zeppelins and automata are stunning, and they are one of the few cultures who do not mind the Undead. The orcs are another, but they tend to attack on sight indiscriminately." Lorelai hummed under her breath and then sighed softly. "Eventually, I stopped by the lizard empire again," she said, "and remained there until a delightful necromancer captured me and began performing some nasty experiments. He kept me only for two years or so before I escaped, but he was likely the worst captor I have ever had. From there, I retreated to the forests whence I had been resurrected. I have been living there for the past two centuries or so… and now I am here."

"That is interesting," Sebille mused, and Lorelai's lips quirked into another smile. "What made the lizard so much worse than others who captured you?"

Lorelai's pleasant smile instantly disappeared, and she opened both her eyes to stare blankly at the sky. "Well…" Lorelai hesitated. "He… dismembered me," she revealed unhappily. "It is a… disconcerting sensation, being unable to control one's limbs even though I could _see _them…"

"He dismembered you?" Sebille repeated, a chill running through her.

"He silenced my magic first," Lorelai continued as though in a trance. "He chopped off my head second. While I could do nothing but watch, he carefully pulled apart my skeleton, bone by bone, and studied them all."

"That does sound disconcerting," Sebille acknowledged. "How did you escape?"

"He forgot to refresh his silencing spell once, so I… left." Lorelai's grin returned with a savage intensity that surprised Sebille. "It took some doing, but I eventually managed to reform the basics of my skeleton."

"What happened to your captor?"

"I…" Lorelai hesitated but eventually opened her mouth again. "I mutilated him as he had done me," she confessed in a soft voice.

"That, darling, is a pristine example of justice," Sebille said proudly.

"My methods were… perhaps excessive," Lorelai countered. "I did not feel pain; he did."

"And?" Sebille retorted. "I think he rather deserved it."

Lorelai released a breath very slowly. "Perhaps," she said, "or perhaps not, but there is nothing to be done about it now. I simply must practice restraint. When I lose my temper, I can… take matters too far."

"I might enjoy seeing that," Sebille mused, and Lorelai chuckled, but it seemed forced. "...Now, I suppose I must return the favor with my story," Sebille added with an exaggerated exhale.

Lorelai sat up straight and gazed intently at Sebille, her head tilted to the side so that her hair trailed on the ground. "I would be honored to listen," she said reverently.

"I'm sure you would," Sebille said with a suspicious glance to Lorelai. Lorelai waited patiently, her wide eyes the picture of innocent curiosity, so Sebille hummed under her breath and rested her chin on her hand. "Imagine, if you will, a small room," she began, and Lorelai nodded vigorously. "The room is nothing but darkness with chains binding you to the floor. The room is all you know until your Master lets you out, his voice invading your mind, ordering you to kill. You cannot resist the voice, and so you obey. You hunt only at night, never seeing the sun, not knowing it exists."

A flicker of pain ran through ran through Lorelai's gaze. Sebille was comforted by the reminder that Lorelai knew what a lightless existence felt like, an existence without the sun.

"I never questioned my imprisonment, as I could imagine nothing different," Sebille said, her mind struggling to reconcile her current mentality with that version of herself. "And then, during a hunt, I killed a scholar. He fell forwards, knocking a well of ink onto the empty sheet of paper in front of him. His blood mixed with the ink, and that was when the first thoughts of rebellion began to stir in my mind." Sebille sighed softly as she recalled her first moment of clarity, her first taste of self-awareness. "I dipped my needle into his blood," she continued, "and carved his name into my own skin so that I would _remember_."

"I understand the feeling," Lorelai murmured. She aimlessly traced the curve of her eye where her crescent moon tattoo would have been on her skull. "How did you escape, dear one?"

"I couldn't, not at first," Sebille explained, that cacophony of emotion rushing through her as though she were living those moments again. "I had no choice but to follow the orders of the Master, but I struggled. I struggled against his voice during the hunt, I strained against my chains in the dark room, but it was all for naught. And then," Sebille breathed, the beauty of that day awing her still, "a chance. It was a simple mistake on the Master's part, a mistake of habit and arrogant oversight. A crack in the prison, a door not completely shut, allowed the slightest glimpse of light, and I hungered for it, I starved for it, I needed it to survive. At that moment, I felt a great surge of power rush through my body to break my restraints. I fled the room and resolved to kill the Master for what he has done to me, what he has forced me to do to so many others."

"I am sorry for what you have suffered, dear one," Lorelai murmured with her head bowed after Sebille's final words disappeared into the breeze. "Thank you for allowing me to share in your burdens and for sharing in mine. I would be proud to aid in your revenge if you ever have need of me."

"And I would offer the same, darling," Sebille said dryly, "had you any revenge to speak of."

"Only if Braccus Rex somehow manages to be resurrected for the, what, second, third time?" Lorelai sighed. "Then, I may require some assistance eradicating him."

"I offer you one favor," Sebille grumbled with faux irritation, "and you ask me to help you kill the all-powerful Source King if he is resurrected? Darling, your enemies are of a high tier."

Lorelai laughed and gazed up at the sky again. "I doubt it will come to that," she said. "I hope that no one would be so idiotic as to resurrect Braccus Rex. Again."

"Yes, well, people are often willing to ignore the mistakes of history because they believe themselves mentally or morally superior."

"Very true," Lorelai agreed softly. "Very true, dear one." With one last smile, she reached out a hand to pat Sebille gently on the cheek. As Sebille attempted to break free of her surprise, Lorelai tipped back onto the ground again and closed her eyes with a contented sigh.

"I…" Sebille hesitated, before rubbing her cheek where Lorelai had touched it. "You have grown rather more… affectionate," Sebille noted.

Lorelai chuckled and lifted a hand to wave it abstractly in the air. "Dominik always observed that I had an insatiable desire to nurse the wounded," she confessed. "He called me a 'mother hen,' and I cannot deny the truth in that. The impulse has only increased with age, I am afraid, and the novelty of touch compels me to initiate physical contact. It is… difficult to resist the urge."

"Mother hen…" Sebille mused. The idea offered a sense of peace without the expectation that she ought to reciprocate in kind, and it made her relax slightly. "I have heard that nostalgia manifests with age," Sebille commented with a wry smile. "I see the same is true for the Undead. Necromancers everywhere would be eager to study such emotions."

Lorelai laughed as she lowered her hand to rest it on her stomach. "It is strange how many creatures expect the Undead to be either incapable of emotion or bitter, hateful creatures. The rest have a strange pity towards us, that we were somehow ripped from our restful death and forced to live an unfulfilling half-existence."

"It is quite clear that you do not feel the same," Sebille observed.

"Yes," Lorelai said, "and those who studied me had an inordinate amount of explanations for why I felt thus."

"Oh? May I hear some examples?"

"I remember many," Lorelai acknowledged. "Some were… because I was resurrected very shortly after my mortal death, because my necromancer was especially skilled, I have been synthetically altered to feel accordingly, I am lying about how I feel, I am being honest but have repressed my true feelings, my lack of emotion induces a sense of acceptance that I have mistaken as happiness, I do not understand the definition of existence, I am of low intelligence, I am a cannibalistic elf, I am female, I have no physical brain, I have no soul, I am a sorcerer, my mortal death was traumatic, my mortal life was traumatic…" Lorelai trailed off, then opened her eyes and pursed her lips in concentration. "I _am_ growing old," she said with a hint of surprise. "There were many more hypotheses, but I am struggling to recall them!"

"I believe you gave sufficient examples," Sebille said dryly. "What is the truth, if I may ask?"

"It is how I feel," Lorelai said simply. "I treasure my time in Rivellon and wish to help others feel likewise."

"But why?"

Lorelai's lips curled into a smile. "I have not the faintest idea," she replied, "but I do know that the kiss of the sun can soothe one's mind, release the tragedies of one's past, and heal one's deepest wounds. That, dear one, is what matters. I hope it gives you the same comfort it gives me."

Sebille stared at Lorelai for a long moment before settling herself onto the soft grass and closing her eyes in another attempt to emulate Lorelai's peace of mind. After over five minutes of nervous hyper-awareness to every single noise in the camp, however, Sebille took a deep breath.

"The spell," she mumbled so quietly that she wondered if Lorelai would even hear.

Without delay, however, Sebille felt a light caress on her head followed by a sensation akin to the full-body relaxation from a warm bath. Sebille smiled just slightly as a sense of tranquility fell over her mind. She was reassured by the fact that she could still hear everything going on in the camp; the littlest noise simply did not inspire tension.

The hand removed itself from Sebille's head, and she allowed the warmth of the sun to soothe her into a shallow sleep.


	15. First Blood

14\. First Blood

* * *

Lorelai felt a smile twitch across her face as she heard Ifan's nearly silent approach. His stealth abilities were truly commendable—almost as impressive as Sebille's—but Lorelai had had much practice living amongst animals who were made to walk in complete silence. If she could sense those, she could sense any upright race trying to emulate them.

Lorelai kept her eyes closed, however, allowing him to get close. She was still lying on her back in the sun, her hands clasped upon her stomach. Lorelai could not get enough of this sunlight and doubted she ever would. Sebille was curled up in a tight ball, relaxed and sleeping soundly from Lorelai's calming spell.

Ifan's movement paused beside Lorelai's head, and she heard his clothes rustle as he crouched down beside her. He waited for a long moment, then poked Lorelai on the cheek just as she had done to him this morning. Lorelai held back a chuckle and opened one eye.

"Although I look alive," she said lazily, "I am not. There is no need to awaken me." Lorelai opened her other eye to inspect Ifan's slightly embarrassed face. He had clearly forgotten her lack of sleeping ability. Feeling playful, she blinked daintily at him. "I wish you had not woken me, in truth," she said, "as I was quite enjoying your rapturous gaze."

Ifan's cheeks reddened, just as Lorelai had intended, and he glanced away with a soft curse. Putting Ifan off-balance was quite enjoyable, as he tended to saunter about with his deserved self-confidence. The tiniest flirtatious insinuation had him bumbling like a sheltered adolescent with a crush, and Lorelai was unused to seeing such reactions from anyone, especially from a hardened warrior like Ifan.

Lorelai closed her eyes to allow Ifan to collect himself. Sebille's breathing had changed subtly, so she was now also awake. Lorelai hoped she was enjoying the show.

Only a second later, Ifan cleared his throat and tapped Lorelai on the cheek again. "I thought it would be polite to at least pretend to wake you up, for appearances' sake," he replied with his usual unbothered laugh. "You've been lying here for hours."

Lorelai hummed, deciding not to call him on his bluff, and then his words processed. She sat up with a gasp and gazed at the sky. "Gracious, how late is it?" she cried in alarm. The sun seemed close to setting, so she gazed wide-eyed at Ifan. "I did not notice!" she informed him with sincere panic.

Ifan raised one eyebrow in disbelief. "I thought you didn't sleep," he drawled.

Frazzled, Lorelai looked around at the long shadows covering the camp around her shaft of sunlight. People were muddling about the camp, swords were clanking, conversations were occurring, and general life had been surrounding her, apparently for hours. Lorelai had not been aware of it until Ifan had walked over.

"I have two responses to that," she said blankly. "First, I believe I have mentioned before that I quickly lose track of time. Second, I believe that the sun… lulled me into a very relaxed state with which I am unfamiliar."

Ifan stared at her, then burst out into raucous laughter. Lorelai felt a confused smile decorate her face as she waited for his explanation of why he found this situation so terribly amusing. He stood and held out a hand, remaining thus until she took it. She allowed him to pull her to her feet, but she did not release his hand. Lorelai enjoyed the roughness of Ifan's palms. It always tickled slightly, so she began swinging their interlocked hands back and forth to produce more of that fascinating friction. She was so entranced by feel of the wind resisting her motions that she barely registered when Ifan next spoke.

"Er, why do you, ehm, speak like that?" Ifan asked nervously.

"Hm?" Lorelai murmured as she continued holding onto Ifan's hand.

"The… numbers," Ifan explained. "Some number of responses. You only do that sometimes."

"Ah," Lorelai realized. "It is a mechanism I implement to organize my thoughts when I am anxious."

"Damn, I didn't notice," Ifan said with surprise coloring his voice. "Why are you anxious right now?"

Lorelai frowned thoughtfully, gazing at her and Ifan's interlocked fingers. "I was almost sleeping," she mused. "Sometimes, I shall wander about in a sort of daze when I am alone, but not when I am around others. To put my guard down in such a manner is… atypical and worth studying."

"Your guard is up around people?" Ifan remarked, sounding amused. "Just how trusting are you when your guard is _down_?"

Ifan was sounding far too recovered for Lorelai's tastes, so she looked up at him. He was smirking, and she did the same, her eyes hooded just slightly. "My dear Ifan," she purred, emulating Sebille's sultry tone, "seeing me with my guard down means… seeing much more than most people would dare hope for."

Ifan's expression froze, so Lorelai winked and leaned forwards to press a light kiss on his cheek. Lorelai had not had the presence of mind to commit his beard's texture to memory when she had hugged him before, so she made to lean in further. She wanted desperately to press her cheek against his, but Ifan snatched his hand back violently as he took a stumbling step back before she could. Lorelai stared at him, noting his bright red face, and recalled how sensitive people were to touch. Instead of remorseful, however, she felt delighted that he was even more unbalanced than she had ever seen him. She grinned widely, her eyes bright with mischief.

"I have millennia without nerves to make up for," she enthused, her excitement outweighing any care for Ifan's discomfort. "So many different sensations that I simply do not remember feeling ever before!"

Lorelai beamed at Ifan, grew distracted again by the wind, then bounced into the air experimentally. Her hair flopped against the back of her neck, and Lorelai gasped. She lifted a lock of hair from her skin, studying it with narrowed eyes as she twirled it around a finger.

"My hair is rough whereas Sebille's is silky," Lorelai observed in a murmur. "Ifan's beard is rough in a different way than my hair is, more ticklish." She gazed at Ifan imploringly. "May I touch your hair?" she inquired eagerly.

Ifan looked surprised and uncomfortable, but Lorelai was overcome with the need to understand any texture that she could. "…Er, ehm, sure," Ifan eventually muttered.

Lorelai gave him an unbridled grin and bounced forwards. She wove both hands into Ifan's hair and used them to twist his head back and forth. Ifan allowed her this, though his posture was stiff and tensed, his muscles poised to flee at any second. After a moment, he relaxed, and Lorelai tilted towards him. She rested her cheek on the top of his head and remained that way, content.

"Should I leave?" Sebille asked dryly, jolting Lorelai out of her comfortable haze with her cheek atop Ifan's head. Lorelai's eyes flew open, and she smiled delightedly. She released Ifan to spin and grab both of Sebille's hands. She drew Sebille to her feet just as Ifan had done to Lorelai, and Sebille smirked. "Apparently not," Sebille remarked.

"I know the difference between soft and rough," Lorelai explained to Sebille eagerly, "but I forgot how the sensations _felt_, if that makes any sense." Lorelai grinned and could not help dragging Sebille into a tight hug. Sebille inhaled sharply and Ifan began to laugh, but Lorelai refused to release Sebille's thin form. It felt nice to hug someone her own height.

"Yes, okay, darling," Sebille said calmly.

Lorelai felt a stiff pat on the back, so she nuzzled her face into Sebille's neck. Sebille's body vibrated in a soft sigh and, before Lorelai could grab her back, Sebille slipped smoothly out of Lorelai's hold. Lorelai made a small noise of displeasure and looked up, giving Sebille a mournful pout.

"You can't fool me, darling," Sebille scolded with a smirk. "I have used these childish techniques all my life. No more theatrics."

Lorelai sighed theatrically and turned her pleading expression Ifan's way. He put a hand on one hip and grinned. "I've been in the manipulation business for a long time, kid," he said smugly. "You'll have to do better than that."

Lorelai dropped the pretense and sighed petulantly before she was distracted by a rounded pebble she spotted on the ground nearby. She picked it up and bounced it in her palm delightedly.

"Moving to more important topics," Sebille stated, turning to Ifan, "did you learn anything, puppy?"

"Ow," Lorelai mumbled when she accidentally tossed the pebble into her own face.

Ifan bared his teeth at Sebille, and she blinked slowly while Lorelai massaged her own stinging cheek. "I did," Ifan said, holding Sebille's challenging gaze with one of his own. "The Seekers want to escape on a magister ship called the Lady Vengeance. It's guarded by Shriekers,"—Lorelai looked up and hissed unhappily, her pebble forgotten—"but there are weapons to destroy them. Gareth left to explore some old ruin but first gave me the location of where a weapons cache should be, and he, of course, wants _us_ to retrieve them."

"Braccus Rex made the Shriekers," Lorelai reminded them cautiously, "and they can be destroyed using a method of purging… recovered by Braccus Rex." Lorelai frowned at her feet as she pushed back her first instinct to berate Ifan for even suggesting they recover the weapons. "Any weapons of Braccus Rex, even if used as an apparent necessity, are not to be trusted."

"It might be our only way off the island, darling," Sebille piped up soothingly.

Lorelai folded her arms across her chest and bit her lip—which was a sharper sensation than she had expected—and forced herself to think rationally. After a moment of silence, she breathed out a deep sigh. "Are these the artefacts the magisters are searching for as well?"

Ifan nodded.

"…Better we retrieve them than the magisters, I suppose," Lorelai relented, unable to keep a slight bitterness from her tone. "Bloody Braccus Rex…" she muttered. "Bloody magisters…"

"Glad you agree," Ifan said with a relieved grin. Lorelai wondered if he would have gone even if she had objected. "Also," he added slyly, "Alexander just so happens to be protected by those same Shriekers."

That cheered Lorelai up immensely, so she instantly grinned. "That is brilliant news," she said in glee. "I wonder what his hair feels like."

"Yes, darling, that's what we are all wondering," Sebille indulged her. She yawned and stretched lithely. "Well, shall we go, then?"

"Where, exactly?" Lorelai inquired.

"Ah, Gareth also gave me a map of the Hollow Marshes," Ifan told her. Ifan shuffled through his pack and handed her a large roll of thick paper. Fascinated by the miniscule markings and variety of color, Lorelai stared at it intently for a long moment. She began tilting it from side-to-side to see how the shapes changed.

"I have never used a map before," she murmured. She tugged on the corners to test its structural integrity, but Ifan quickly snatched it back.

"Never?" he asked in disbelief. "In four thousand years, you've never used a map?"

"Not that I can recall," Lorelai said, gazing at the paper hungrily. "I prefer to allow my feet to take me where they want to go."

"Quaint philosophy," Sebille said, "but rather impractical for our purposes."

"I cannot disagree with that," Lorelai giggled. "Ifan, lead us to the cache, if you please, and perhaps we can break some of Braccus Rex's curses along the way." She smiled, turning her head between Ifan and Sebille. "I only ask," she said gravely, though she kept a comforting smile on her face, "that you would allow me to handle any of Braccus Rex's artifacts or curses. They are often deadly so are far less likely to affect me."

Ifan narrowed his eyes, looking as though he was about to disagree, so Lorelai dropped her smile. Ifan studied her intently but nodded.

"I have no problem with that, darling," Sebille said airily, but Lorelai caught a similar flash of unhappiness in her eyes.

Lorelai brightened again, and she tilted her head to the side with a grateful smile. "I am aware that neither of you are particularly enthusiastic about sitting uselessly while someone else faces the danger, but I thank you for putting my noncorporeal mind at ease." She gave them both a shallow bow, her hands clasped in front of her chest.

"You are welcome," Ifan said as she remained in that position. When she lifted her head with a grin, he held out his hand until she clasped it with both of hers and allowed him to draw her upright.

"Your hands are so much rougher than mine or Sebille's," Lorelai informed him exuberantly as she clutched him tightly. "It is ticklish." She released Ifan's hand and clapped her own together, then jumped at the sharp influx of pain. She stared at her stinging palms with a frown and shook them out. "I am growing quite distracted and somewhat overwhelmed with all this touch," she muttered, suddenly aware of how much time she had been wasting.

Lorelai huffed decisively and threw her hood over her head. She peeled off her mask and stuffed it into her ribcage before anyone could notice, simultaneously pulling on gloves. She shivered slightly when she was once again surrounded by a strangely comforting nothingness, and she patted Sebille on the head with gloved hands. She giggled at the lack of sensation while Sebille gazed at her impassively.

"Thank you, dear one," Lorelai told her warmly. "I had a pleasant nap." Sebille recoiled and glanced away without responding. "Let us depart before the day is up," Lorelai said to decrease Sebille's discomfort. "I wish to complete this distasteful task as quickly as possible."

"The sooner we get off this island, the better," Ifan agreed. He led everyone back to the main area of the Seeker camp. A few people cast Lorelai a glance and narrowed their eyes at her coverings, but no one made a comment.

"It is good that there are so many willing to fight the magisters," Lorelai said as she glanced around the bustling and diverse camp. "I was worried that only sorcerers would be desperate enough to rebel."

"Many people aren't a fan of the new Divine Order," Ifan growled with unexpected anger. He seemed to catch himself and puffed out a breath from his nose. The grin he gave Lorelai was forced. "All the better for us, eh?" he said.

"I suppose so," Lorelai mused. She glanced at him, wondering if she ought to ask why exactly he had left the Divine Order, but she was distracted by the sound of approaching footsteps. When Lorelai saw who it was, she let out a small noise of recognition. "Hello, friend," she called out. "This is one of those whom I healed," she said to Ifan and Sebille, happy that one of her patients was already up and about.

Ifan eyed the elf rushing over suspiciously, but Lorelai hoped he was appeased by the sheer gratitude in the man's eyes. The elf halted in front of Lorelai and clasped his hands in front of his chest. He gave Lorelai a shallow bow, and she mirrored it respectfully.

"I awoke feeling better than I ever have before," the elf said with a grateful smile. "I was told that you were the healer responsible. For that, I thank you."

"It was my pleasure, dear one," Lorelai told him warmly. "I hope—oh, wait," she interrupted herself, but the elf had already reached forward and grasped both of her hands in his.

The elf's expression froze, and he slowly drew his hands away, his eyes wide.

As horror and realization began to fill the depths of the elf's eyes, Lorelai felt panic swell up. "Oh, dear one," she said with a calmness she did not feel, holding up a pacifying hand, "please do not—"

Quick as a flash, the elf reached forwards and snatched off her glove. His gaze fixed itself upon Lorelai's skeletal fingers, and he took a stumbling step back. "An… an Undead!" he shouted desperately before Lorelai could speak. "An Undead has infiltrated the base! Help!"

"Bloody bugger," Lorelai whispered to herself. She knew what was coming.

Lorelai remained relaxed and still as Seekers and sorcerers rushed over with weapons drawn or magic ready to cast. At her side, Ifan drew his crossbow but did not raise it; Sebille fell into a predatory stance with both daggers unsheathed. Lorelai mentally begged them not to provoke an attack.

The elf whom Lorelai had healed skittered backwards and pointed to her emphatically. "That's the Undead," he said in a high-pitched voice that made Ifan snarl softly. "Kill that thing before it murders us all!"

Lorelai sighed heavily and threw back her hood. A collective gasp rippled through the camp, and Ifan tensed visibly when every weapon in the camp was instantly pointed at the trio. Grateful that no one had tried to kill her just yet, Lorelai cleared her throat in the proceeding silence. "If I might—"

"Where is the elf you have been imitating?" the man Lorelai remembered as Kerban growled.

"…Pardon?" Lorelai inquired, puzzled. She tilted her head to the side as she tried to remember to what he was referring.

"This is the same Lorelai," Ifan snapped at Kerban. "She is no different than she was a moment ago."

"I saw her," Kerban retorted. "She wasn't that"—He waved an emphatic hand—"_thing_."

"Oh," Lorelai realized, "the mask." She reached into her cloak to retrieve it but froze at the sound of multiple crossbows being loaded. "Please do not be alarmed," she said very calmly, holding Kerban's gaze. "I simply wish to prove to you that I am Lorelai."

"Proceed," Kerban said suspiciously, "but know that if you try anything abnormal, you'll be getting a dozen blades and crossbow bolts into your plagued corpse."

"I do not doubt that for one moment," Lorelai said cordially.

Lorelai was lightly peeved that he had called her plagued. She took great pains to make sure her bones were well cared for at all times. Reminding herself that it was just a random insult, that her bones did not look plagued, she scrounged through her ribcage until her hand alighted on the mask. She took it out and carefully placed it on her face. A few swordsmen rushed forwards as her body shimmered, but they paused when they saw her appearance.

Kerban gazed at her in shock, something at which Lorelai had to prevent herself from laughing. "How in…"

Lorelai removed her mask a moment later, and his eyes narrowed as he hefted his sword again.

"So," he spat, "you falsify your appearance to pretend you're one of us, and then you infiltrate our encampments? Your kind should not even exist, never mind take a single step out of your crypt!"

Lorelai kept her voice soft and soothing. "I am not—"

"The dead don't belong in this world!" he shouted wildly. "Let us put you down quietly and we'll spare the living ones you tricked."

Ifan growled savagely and aimed his crossbow at Kerban, his teeth bared.

"Disarm!" Kerban ordered. "My mercy is limited."

Sebille hissed and Ifan placed his hand on the trigger, but Lorelai shoved him to the side before he could shoot, causing a crossbow bolt from behind to hit her instead of him. She stumbled with a small grunt as the bolt dug itself into the side of her collarbone, and she mentally thanked every lucky star in existence that she was not still wearing her mask; the pain would have been excruciating.

Ifan regained his balance and stared at her with wide eyes, his gaze turning furious when he noticed the bolt sticking out of her bone.

"Please do not attempt that again," Lorelai said calmly before Ifan or Sebille could retaliate. She had not even finished speaking when another crossbow bolt whistled through the air, this time hitting her in the back. Lorelai stumbled forwards again from the force, and Ifan swept behind her to shield her from further projectiles. "Please," Lorelai said. She knew she would not get through to these people, but she had to try. "Please, I wish no one harm."

"Lorelai's one of us," Ifan growled furiously. "Put down your weapons or you'll get the fight of a lifetime."

"And not a very long lifetime for you," Sebille added in a low, threatening voice.

"No," Lorelai told them, and they both turned to glare at her this time. "They cannot harm me," Lorelai reminded the pair, "but they can harm you. I do not want death."

"_They_ seem to want it, darling," Sebille retorted. "I do not see many options."

Lorelai silently considered this for a long moment before she sighed. She raised her hands and flicked her wrists, inspiring another crossbow to fire, this time into her ribs. Before Ifan and Sebille could move, both were incased in a sphere of blue light. Two more bolts and a throwing knife flew towards them. The knife bounced off Ifan's sphere, one of the bolts embedded itself into Lorelai's shoulder, and the second was deflected by Sebille's sphere.

Lorelai had never been struck by a crossbow bolt before today, and they were far more powerful than she had realized. She could tell that her bones had been damaged, that some well-aimed hits to her legs could prevent her from escaping without bloodshed. The last two bolts were also starting to make her feel woozy; Lorelai was unused to feeling woozy.

"I have three responses to your aggression," Lorelai said peaceably as she desperately smothered the desire to lash out in panicked self-defense. "Will you allow me to speak?"

"What did you do to the others?" Kerban yelled.

"They are within a shield and unable to move," she replied. She glanced at her immobilized friends inside their spheres, and Ifan was glaring at her furiously. Lorelai turned back to Kerban. "I regret the necessity," she said, "but I do not wish for them to be harmed."

"You'll get no sympathy from me," Kerban hissed.

"Nor did I ask for it," Lorelai said in a tranquil voice that hid her exasperation. "Will you allow me to speak?" she repeated.

There was a short silence, but Kerban gave her a swift nod. He and everyone else, however, did not lower their weapons.

"First," Lorelai said, "I would reiterate that I do not wish to cause harm, and I refuse to take any of your lives."

"You do not have the power to take any—"

Lorelai's temper frayed slightly, so she muttered a spell under her breath. A series of pale green telekinetic tendrils sprung from her hands and wrenched every single weapon from the surrounding men and women. Only one person managed to attack in time, and a throwing knife embedded itself into Lorelai's skull. Her head snapped to the side at the heavy impact, but the telekinetic tendrils still deposited every other weapon into a pile behind Lorelai. The entire encampment was now unarmed.

"Children should not be given such dangerous toys," Lorelai said in a threateningly soft voice, no longer able to keep her annoyance in check. "You said you would let me speak. Stop. _Interrupting_."

Kerban and the others fell silent and slowly backed away.

Lorelai paused to collect herself and mentally cursed her idiocy for provoking these people. The weight of the knife in her skull caused her head to tilt to the side, and she could not bother to lift it upright. The combination of her magic use and whatever was on those last two crossbow bolts was rapidly sapping her strength.

"Second," Lorelai continued cordially as if nothing had transpired, "I will still find the weapons to kill the Shriekers so that you may board your ship."

Terrified silence.

Lorelai felt another flash of irritation rush through her, and her voice lowered until it was as cold as ice. "Third," she growled dangerously, "if anyone attempts to harm my companions again, there shall be _consequences_."

Lorelai let that sink in for a moment before she gestured with her hands. Both spheres were drawn beside Lorelai, remaining at her side her as she slowly walked down the path towards the entrance of the camp. The pitter-patter of feet along with a hoarse battle cry and the clash of metal elicited a sigh from Lorelai. She paused politely for one of the discarded swords to pierce through her back. She felt it slide between her ribs and poke out the other side, burying itself into her arm.

"Let her go, Exeter," Simone's voice called out softly. "She saved three lives last night and rescued Gareth from the magisters. She doesn't deserve… this. Just… stop. Please stop."

"It's an Undead!" Kerban yelled.

"Shut up, Kerban," Simone snapped. "Stop posturing. She could clearly kill us all if she wanted to, which she obviously doesn't."

"Thank you, Simone," Lorelai said without turning, a flicker of warmth running through her at Simone's defense, no matter how belated. "I wish you well."

"Thank you, and… I'm… sorry," Simone replied, sounding close to tears, "so sorry."

"No apologies necessary," Lorelai replied tiredly.

Lorelai began walking again, the sword clanging inside her. Her pace was slowing, but she made it to the vines without too much effort. She dawdled at the top of the cliff before gently lowering Ifan and Sebille to the ground. She gazed at the vines, hopelessly aware that she would not be able to climb down unaided. Thus, she stepped off the cliff and allowed herself to crash to the ground. The impact jarred her but did no real damage. Lorelai pushed herself to her feet with a grunt.

"I assume you are incensed with me at the moment," Lorelai said tiredly to Ifan and Sebille as she continued away from the camp, "and you have good reason to be. I shall release the two of you momentarily, and I am sincerely sorry for using magic to enforce my will upon you."

True to her word, Lorelai lowered her arms after a few minutes of walking and allowed the blue light to dissipate. The moment she did so, she collapsed against a nearby tree.

"I should have stayed in the bloody forest," she complained with a strangled laugh. Lorelai could only hope that her companions did not wish the same.


	16. Inconsiderate

_hey all! not a huge fan of A/N's, but just wanted to say thanks for all reviews, faves, follows nd all! makes me happy_

* * *

15\. Inconsiderate

* * *

The moment the blue shield dissipated, Ifan shook away the numbness in his limbs and stood up. He turned to face Lorelai, who had removed her tattered cloak and was slumped in front of a tree a few minutes' walk away from the Seeker's camp. Ifan was furious, both at the Seekers and at Lorelai, but he calmed himself for the moment. There were more important things to worry about.

Lorelai was inspecting the weapons embedded in her bones. One of her ribs was cracked, nearly all the way through, and it looked about to snap off. Lorelai tried to reach for the bolt, but another bolt in her shoulder seemed to prevent her arm from twisting far enough. Her other arm was jammed by the sword whose hilt was stuck in what looked like curled antlers between her ribs. Her collarbone held another crossbow bolt, and Ifan could not see the final bolt that was in her back. The worst was the knife; it had formed a spiderweb of cracks across the top of her skull and was forcing her head to tilt at an awkward angle.

"I should have stayed in the bloody damned forest," Lorelai repeated. She glanced up at Ifan and Sebille with difficulty. "Again, I apologize for using such magic on you," she said pleadingly, sounding as though she were about to burst into tears.

"We can discuss that later, darling," Sebille cooed, but she could not disguise the worry in her tone.

"Agreed," Ifan said briskly. He strode forward and knelt in front of Lorelai, who hung her head. Ifan hoped field medicine would be relevant here, but he had no idea if Lorelai's bones would regenerate like skin. He hoped they did. He was not enjoying his current feeling of helplessness.

"I thought you were a tad more invulnerable than this," Sebille commented as she sat cross-legged at Lorelai's side. She tilted her head to the side and blinked curiously.

"Someone did their bloody research on the bloody Undead," Lorelai muttered. "A couple of the bolts seem to be poisoned—the opposite of poisoned, I mean. Health… potion-ed. Believe it or not, it bloody _hurts_. I can feel the bloody liquid burning through my marrow, and I must say that I am feeling rather…" Lorelai trailed off with a moan.

"Which of the bolts are poisoned?" Ifan asked. When Lorelai's head lolled to the side, Ifan drew her skull towards him again. "Lorelai," he snapped. "Can I remove the weapons, or will that cause harm?"

"Go ahead," Lorelai said. "I do not bloody bleed."

"That does make things easier," Sebille said before standing up and wrenching the knife from Lorelai's head. She inspected the blade carefully, then frowned.

Ifan pulled out the bolts from Lorelai's rib, collarbone, and shoulder. It took more effort than he would have thought, and he half-expected Lorelai's bones to split under the force.

"Okay, Lorelai," Ifan said with false cheer. "I've spent more time breaking bones than healing them, but I can guess that a sword and a crossbow bolt are not too good for them. Mind leaning forward so I can reach them?"

Lorelai huffed and bent forwards so far that her forehead touched the ground. Sebille drew a finger along the cracks on Lorelai's skull and inspected the entry point from the knife itself.

"Okay, surgery time," Ifan muttered.

Ifan grasped the crossbow bolt that was stuck in one of her upper vertebrae and tore it out in one quick stroke. The sword was more difficult, as Lorelai was not keeping her arm taut. He had to hold her arm tightly and keep his elbow locked before he could drag the tip of the blade from the bone. Ifan carefully untangled the hilt from the antlers and drew the sword from her body without nicking any of her other bones.

"Poison," Sebille abruptly snapped, gazing intently at Ifan. "She needs poison. Regular poison. She said it healed her."

"Of that, I have plenty," Ifan said with a strained chuckled, and Sebille murmured her agreement. They both rifled through their packs and began pulling out various illicit substances. Once there was a deadly arsenal on the ground, they both looked to Lorelai. "Does she drink it?" Ifan asked slowly.

Sebille shrugged and tipped back Lorelai's skull before pouring a bottle of poison into her jaw. The liquid disappeared when it hit where the entrance of her throat should have been, and Lorelai made a small noise.

"I am by no means dying, dear ones," Lorelai muttered with a note of amusement. "I am simply… recovering. Thank you for the poison, however. It shall speed up the recovery process exponentially."

"Darling, I am disappointed with your fragility," Sebille scolded. "How have you lived for so long when you break like an eggshell?"

Lorelai chuckled. "I am… unused to protecting other people instead of only myself," she admitted in a stronger voice as the poison seemed to run its course. "I could not fortify myself while also keeping up the frost spheres. The combination of degenerative health potions, a lack of defense, a bombastic display of telekinetic magic, and two frost immobilization shields took a touch of effort on my part. I am… tired."

"Yes, speaking of the shields," Sebille growled, "why didn't you let me slit the throats of those hypocrites?"

"Sebille, if I slit the throat of every hypocrite in the world, it would likely be populated by nothing but the Undead—and only because they have no throat to be slit," Lorelai said with another laugh. "This is my fault," she said cheerfully. "I grew careless and forgot that all people are not like you strange creatures. Careless, careless, careless."

"You are not meek, Lorelai," Sebille growled. "Stop pretending to be."

"I am not meek," Lorelai agreed. "I am, however, opposed to harming people when I can simply leave. I have many advantages that mortals do not possess, and any fight would be simply unfair."

"I wouldn't call a couple dozen people against three a fair fight," Ifan growled.

"I can survive much more," Lorelai replied with infuriating calmness. "Now, if you do not mind, I must heal my skeleton."

Ifan and Sebille watched quietly as Lorelai summoned a hot blast of steam that she clenched into her fist. She opened her hand just slightly to allow a concentrated stream to jet into one of the wounds. The bone itself seemed to melt, then fill itself in until her skeleton was as smooth as it had been. She repeated the process with the other contusions except for her skull fracture. For that one, she took one of Sebille's poisons and dumped it over her head. The liquid was absorbed into the cracks, and they instantly disappeared. She filled in the scour from the knife with a large blast of steam.

Lorelai dissipated the steam and shuddered. "Manipulating the shape of my own bone is a strange sensation," she sighed, "but at least it is possible. Dominik was very invested in my well-being; he made me to survive for a long, long time."

"This whole situation isn't right," Ifan muttered with repressed anger. "It doesn't sit well with me at all."

Lorelai laughed and glanced up at him. "I appreciate that," she said warmly. "I do not recall a time in which someone has felt thus. Perhaps it has happened before, but I cannot remember."

"I suppose we simply are not ordinary, darling," Sebille replied with a dramatic flick of her hand.

"You are not," Lorelai agreed delightedly, "and I am the luckier for it."

"Lorelai," Ifan snapped, irritated at her blasé attitude. "Don't you dare ever keep me out of a fight again." Lorelai grew unnaturally still and turned her face to him, her eye sockets fixed on Ifan's face in a manner that looked disturbingly cold. For the first time, Ifan understood that he was facing an old, powerful creature, someone whom he had no authority over.

"I shall promise no such thing, Ifan," Lorelai said in a voice just as icily calm as the one she had used to address the Seekers' camp.

"This is non-negotiable," Ifan retorted with a furious glare, forcing away an uncustomary bolt of fear. "Either you promise this or I leave."

Lorelai inhaled sharply, and even Sebille paused to give Ifan a disbelieving glance. "I…" Lorelai glanced away, but Ifan did not allow himself to feel any pity. "Do you realize just how _short_ your precious life is?" she asked hoarsely. "Decades, Ifan. _Decades._"

"Yes," Ifan snarled in response. "Yes, and I will not waste it standing on the sidelines while my friend takes damage. Now, do you understand that?"

"But I cannot die!" Lorelai cried. "Not like—"

"Lorelai!" Ifan roared, successfully cutting off her next words. "Do you understand?"

Lorelai gazed at him for a long time, long enough that Ifan grew worried that she was about to send him away, but she eventually nodded. It was a sharp, curt nod, but it was a nod.

Ifan let out a deep sigh of relief and dropped down onto his haunches in front of her. He gave her a smile, an affectionate and gentle one that Lorelai had given him many times, and placed a hand on her head. Her skull felt smoother than he had expected, the polished texture only interrupted by the grooves of her tattoos. The area where the knife had been embedded was free of the ink it should have had, and Ifan felt a stab of rage at the people who had caused this.

"Lorelai," he said in a soft voice, looking straight into her face. "Do you understand _why_ I am asking this?"

"I do," Lorelai said just as quietly. "I do understand. I simply wish…"

"I know," Ifan stated when she trailed off, "and I appreciate the thought." He gave her a brisk pat on the head, and she laughed.

"I apologize again," she said warmly, "and thank you for… your kindness, your trust, your friendship… everything." She glanced to Sebille on her left. "Both of you."

"Mm," Sebille hummed, "you're welcome, darling, but know that I do intend to eviscerate anyone who tries to kill us again."

"And I shall never forcibly stop you again," Lorelai vowed. "Are we all still… friends?"

Ifan rolled his eyes and stood up. "Humans might be short-lived, but our memory isn't _that_ bad. Of course we're still damn friends."

"I suppose so," Sebille said cautiously.

"Sebille, your dice are truly exceptional," Lorelai said with a delighted clap of her hands. "I am the luckiest creature I know." She ruffled Sebille's hair before the elf could flee, then reached over to give Ifan's hand a tight squeeze before drawing her arm back again. "If you do not mind waiting just a tad longer," she added, "then I would like to repair my tattoos as soon as possible."

Ifan nodded. Sebille scooted closer to Lorelai and watched intently as she began dipping her sharpened fingers into jars of ink she retrieved from her pack. Ifan was curious as well, but he kept an eye out for anyone who might have gotten any ideas to finish off Lorelai.

Any of those people would regret taking one step out of their little camp.

xXxXxXx

"I assume you are another one of Braccus Rex's experiments?" Lorelai asked the strange old man of shimmering blue.

"Hah! I can't believe you fell for that!" was the man's response.

"Another illusion," Lorelai muttered as she poked her skeletal hand through the man. "Bloody Braccus Rex and his bloody games."

"It's not satisfying to kill illusions," Ifan complained as he poked one of the boxes in the cave with a stick. The box turned blue and translucent, so Ifan moved to the next box.

"Are you certain this is the correct place?" Sebille inquired, inspecting the walls of the cavern. "It seems rather tame for the work of Braccus Rex."

"I am guessing that the old skeleton man was cursed by the dear Source King," Lorelai replied, "and the skeleton created the illusions to accomplish whatever task Braccus Rex forced upon him. Poor man."

"Any way to free him?" Ifan asked distractedly. He was poking at the other boxes with his stick and seemed to find one that was real. He grinned and began rifling through it.

"Perhaps," Lorelai said, "but I do not know the nature of the curse. If the real version shows himself, it may be possible."

"Then let's find the real version," Sebille stated. "These illusions have lost their charm."

"It is an interesting blend of light distortion and aerothurge," Lorelai commented as she inspected the illusion of the old man. "There seem to be some elements of polymorph magic as well… This is brilliant work…"

"If we find the real version," Sebille said, "then you can ask him all the questions in the world, darling."

"I would thoroughly enjoy that," Lorelai replied happily, starting to feel more like herself.

Lorelai had not replaced her mask or even raised her hood since leaving the Seeker's camp. Neither Ifan nor Sebille had pointed it out, something for which she was grateful. Lorelai did not want to discuss the attack, and the idea of masking herself currently disgusted her, even though her new beautiful blue cloak was now riddled with holes. To busy herself, she had discussed tattoo techniques with Sebille while Ifan led them to the location of a presumed Vault of Braccus Rex.

Once they arrived at the Vault, Lorelai had taken the lead. She had been instantly fascinated by the ancient cavern whose entrance had been disguised using some sort of illusory magic. Lorelai had never seen this complexity of illusion before, and she was delighted to distract herself with the prospect of studying it. She was always looking for a chance to expand her vast repertoire of magic, and Braccus Rex, as much as she despised him, had attracted all kinds of brilliant sorcerers and unique magicks. As long as she was in this blasted place, she might as well study along the way.

Solving these little puzzles and illusions was rapidly restoring Lorelai's good mood. She never expected to be able to thank Braccus Rex for anything, but she was thoroughly entertained. From sentient statues to lost souls in dry wells, this place was filled with intrigue. Lorelai was conscious of the horror, of course, the pain that these souls had suffered, but she felt a sense of accomplishment in that she could at least give them peace by breaking their curses.

"Ooh, a series of disconnected floating platforms!" Lorelai squealed when they made it into the next room.

The cavern floors were now replaced with worn stone surrounded by crumbling walls with no seeming way across the chasm over which the stone floated. Lorelai rushed forwards and began using a tentacle arm to search for hidden solid ground. She quickly discovered a series of staircases and platforms that connected to another archway, but she was disappointed to find that the next room was filled with treasure. A room filled with treasure meant the end of the Vault. Just in case, Lorelai tapped the coins and chests with the tentacle to see if any were illusions, but it was not to be.

"Ah, now this is more like it," Ifan laughed. He rushed ahead of Lorelai and ran his hand through a pile of gold. "This was a good idea after all."

"I suppose Braccus Rex did not expect people to see through the illusions," Sebille commented. She flitted to one of the treasure chests and expertly picked the lock even faster than Lorelai could have.

"Braccus Rex expected me to do a better job," the old man's voice echoed through the Vault.

Lorelai instinctively whipped the tentacle at him, and he cried out in shock when it made contact. "Oh, pardon me!" Lorelai gasped. "I expected another illusion. Are you real?"

"Real…?" The man sighed. "I exist," he said, "but I am bound to protect this place. I have been here for… longer than I can imagine."

"How may I help?" Lorelai inquired gently. The skeleton looked exhausted, defeated, and she was filled with pity. "Is there a way to break your bind?"

The skeleton looked at her in shock. "You… wish to help me?" he asked, baffled. "…Why?"

"No one deserves this," Lorelai told him gently. "May I help?"

"Please, please," the man breathed. "The soul jar." He pointed a shaking hand to the gilded jar atop a pedestal at the head of the room. "Break it. Set me free."

"You shall die," Lorelai said sadly. "Is that truly what you wish?"

"That is the only way I can be free," he pleaded her.

Lorelai dipped her head and gently lifted the soul jar from its plinth. "Trombody," she read the plaque. She looked to the skeleton, who was gazing at her with unbridled hope in his eyes. "I wish you well, Trombody," she said. "Your magic is beautiful," she added before dropping the jar.

The jar shattered to pieces, and Lorelai felt the pure relief radiating from Trombody just before he dissipated into nothingness.

While Sebille and Ifan plundered the Vault, Lorelai collected four other soul jars that were similarly displayed. She read the names under her breath, recognizing Rask, Tamsyn, and Gwick. With only a slight hesitation, she shattered the soul jars as she had Trombody's. As much as she despised destroying them, Lorelai was comforted by the whisper gratitude from each necromancer as their souls departed the mortal plane.

Once completed, Lorelai read the inscription on the final soul jar: Gratiana. She gazed at that one for nearly a full minute before gingerly placing it into her pack.

"I think I found the weapons," Ifan called out, drawing Lorelai's attention. He was reaching into a chest, but he froze when Lorelai called for him to stop.

"Do not touch the artefacts of Braccus Rex," Lorelai reminded him. "Allow me."

"I'm hardly helpless, Lorelai," Ifan warned her with a soft glare.

Lorelai opened her mouth to protest but thought better of it. She had already forcibly encased them in a shield today and wished to impose nothing more. Thus, she nodded her head and simply watched as he lifted a handful of bright orange wands.

"These look important," he said, "and, well, they're the only weapons in here."

"Those are purging wands," Lorelai confirmed distastefully.

Ifan inspected the wands for a moment longer, then tossed them to Lorelai. She caught them, thankful that they still hummed with energy. She did not know how to recharge a drained wand, and that would have ruined the whole purpose of this excursion.

"So, the Seekers' information was correct?" Sebille asked, sounding disappointed. "A shame. I do not wish to return to that camp…" She eyed Lorelai craftily. "Unless, of course, I can allow my needle to whet her appetite…?"

Lorelai laughed but shook her head. "I apologize, dear one, but I would prefer you not."

"Hm. Perhaps," Sebille mused. "I shall see how I feel at the time."

"That is all I ask, dear one."

"You're going back to the Seeker camp with us?" Ifan called out as he approached. "Is that the best idea?"

"Perhaps not," Lorelai said with a shrug, "but I always hope that if those who dislike the Undead see a peaceful Undead, they will at least have a shred of doubt, perhaps enough to begin a change of opinion."

"Or, a nice little arrow sent toward your throat," Sebille offered.

"I took four crossbow bolts, a sword, and a knife only a few hours ago," Lorelai reminded them. "The only reason I felt any discomfort was because I was anti-poisoned by healthy juices."

"Can't argue with that," Ifan said with an approving smirk. "It was pretty impressive."

Lorelai offered him an exaggerated bow. "Why thank you, my dear Ifan," Lorelai said arrogantly. "Shall we proceed to the nest of frightened children?"

Neither Ifan nor Sebille seemed as enthusiastic as Lorelai, but they followed her out of the treasure room. A nearby lever nearby dissipated a force field that led back to the entrance of the cavern. Lorelai sighed at the prospect of leaving this interesting cave, but none of the illusion magic was active anymore. As Lorelai was preparing to return to the Marshes, however, she heard something.

_Come close__… my child…_

Lorelai glanced around, and the others gazed at her expectantly. "Did you hear…?"

"Hear what?" Ifan said asked.

Lorelai felt herself drawn to a statue hidden in a nearby alcove, so she slowly approached. "Curious," Lorelai murmured. Something urged her to reach out, some indecipherable echo in her head that compelled her to act, so she rested the bones of her hand against the stone.

In that moment, everything disappeared.


	17. Divine Retribution

16\. Divine Retribution

* * *

When Lorelai's vision returned, she was disoriented, as though she had been hit on the head and stuffed into an unfamiliar room. After a cursory look around, that did not seem far from the truth.

Lorelai was in a strange but vaguely familiar landscape of dark hexagonal stone forming moving platforms and sparkling mountains. She did not know how she had come here and why she knew this place, but she supposed she had little else to do but explore. Lorelai took her time wandering the place. There were no obvious entrances or exits, and the glowing stone seemed to be floating in the midst of nothingness. There was a clear path to follow, the only path, but Lorelai kept a careful eye out for hidden offshoots. There were none that she noticed.

Her gaze was finally drawn to a bright golden light in the distance, so she hurried in that direction. When she arrived, she was met with an odd sight: a young elven girl surrounded by the golden glow who was standing alone in this place. Lorelai approached cautiously, expecting another illusion.

The little girl tilted her head to the side and stepped towards Lorelai. "…Mama?" the little girl asked. "Mama, is that you?"

Lorelai gazed at the young elf, baffled. "No, child, I am not your mother," she said quizzically. "Is there something… I can do to aid you?"

"Mama, you do not recognize me?" the girl asked, a pleading note to her voice. "They… they said you would not, but you must. You must."

Lorelai glanced around uneasily and took a step back. "Where am I?" she inquired. "Why are you addressing me?"

The little elven girl sighed, and her form shimmered and stretched. The child turned into a short human woman who reached out towards Lorelai. Though she watched the figure with excessive caution, Lorelai remained still and allowed the golden woman to lay a hand on her skeletal arm.

"I apologize for the deception, my child," the woman said in a soft, gentle voice that made Lorelai want to lean forwards and allow herself to be enveloped in the light. She resisted the urge, only staring at the woman in silence. "It was necessary to test you."

"Test me?" Lorelai repeated. "Why? Should I recognize you?"

"No, not me," the woman said with a gentle laugh. "I am Amadia, and you, my child, are my chosen. You are my Godwoken."

"I have… three questions to that," Lorelai said slowly, trying not to show that her mind was reeling with alarm and skepticism. "First… can you prove your claim of being the goddess Amadia?"

"Yes," Amadia murmured. "Feel my power. Know the truth…" Lorelai jerked backwards as a wave of pure Source rushed towards her, more than she had ever felt before. The raw power left her dazed for a moment, and she stared at the golden woman with a new wariness.

"Perhaps… you are Amadia," Lorelai acknowledged, alarm beginning to overtake the skepticism. "Second, where am I?"

"Where else would one meet a goddess?" Amadia asked, a small laugh floating from her lips.

"The Hall of Echoes," Lorelai murmured as curiosity started to envelop her. "I see…" Before she could grow too distracted, Lorelai shook her head and looked to the goddess again. "Four questions," she corrected herself. "I have four questions."

"Ask, my child."

"Third, by calling me your Godwoken, are you insinuating that you wish me to be the next Divine?"

"Yes," Amadia said eagerly. "Yes, indeed."

"I do not want to be a Divine," Lorelai said blandly. "The concept holds no appeal to me."

"I know, my child," Amadia said with overwhelming fondness. "Now, ask your final question."

"Fourth, what did you mean that it was necessary to test me?" Lorelai asked.

"Ah, and now we arrive at the heart of the matter," Amadia said. "As you just said yourself, you are not ready to accept your fate. Therefore, my child, I shall help you."

Since Amadia had not answered the question, Lorelai remained carefully silent.

"I see you are not to be distracted," Amadia laughed. "The form I chose before, did you recognize it?"

Lorelai shook her head slowly. If she had breath, there would be none flowing into her lungs.

"It was not a lie," Amadia stated.

"How do you mean?" Lorelai inquired with false calmness.

"That was a glimpse of what you missed, a life that could have been, a life that you have always regretted not pursuing."

"Speak plainly," Lorelai ordered as she hid her panic behind a brisk visage. "What was that image, and why did you show it to me?"

"That was your little Melody," Amadia revealed with a gentle smile that did not keep Lorelai from freezing in place.

"You…" Lorelai gaped at Amadia, then shook her head. "Lies," she stated.

"Your daughter, the daughter that you left behind, lived on without you," Amadia purred. "Would you like to know more?"

Lorelai's mind fell blank, and she stared uncomprehendingly at Amadia. "You… can tell me about Melody?" she asked dumbly.

"Yes, I can."

"You know what… happened to her?" Lorelai asked, dazed with incomprehension. "Did... was… was she happy? Please, tell me she was happy!"

"If you wish to know more, you must—"

"Of course I bloody wish to know more!" Lorelai yelled, stepping forwards so that she was nearly passing through Amadia.

"Calm yourself," Amadia soothed, but Lorelai waved her hand sharply.

"You cannot simply offer that knowledge and expect me to sit passively!" Lorelai shouted. "Tell me what you know!"

"If you wish to know more," Amadia began again, "find a man named Fane."

"A what?" Lorelai snapped. "No, tell me now!"

"Fane is still in Fort Joy," Amadia continued without pause, "searching for a mask to hide his true face. Present him with such a gift, and he shall help you. Bring him the next time you return to me." Amadia smiled kindly. "But before you go, child, I shall teach you something important."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Lorelai shouted in a panicked voice. "Explain!"

"I bless you so that you may Bless others…" A rush of power consumed Lorelai just as Amadia's form began to fade. "Goodbye, my child…" her voice echoed.

"No, no, do not dare to bloody leave!" Lorelai cried as her vision cut out for a moment. Amadia disappeared to be replaced by a familiar statue. "You absolute inconsiderate piece of goat in—"

"Lorelai?" Ifan's voice interrupted carefully.

"—testines!"

Lorelai looked around rapidly for Amadia, but the goddess was no longer present. Instead, she was surrounded by the rest of her companions, outside of the Hall of Echoes.

"I…" Growing overwhelmed with incomprehensible emotion, Lorelai rushed to the statue and hit it as hard as she could. She felt her bones crack at the contact. "What happened?" Lorelai shrieked to the silent statue. "Tell me what happened to her!" Lorelai raised her fist to slam it against the stone again, but someone caught her arm and pulled her away. "Let me go!" Lorelai shouted. "I need to get back! I need to get back!"

"Lorelai, stop!" Ifan's deep voice rang through her skull, and Lorelai's distress faded slightly, enough that she could think. "Lorelai, what's going on?" he asked urgently. "You just froze! Did you see something?"

"That matters not," Lorelai breathed, still gazing at the statue. "She said… she…" Lorelai took a deep breath and forcibly instructed her nonexistent muscles to relax. She took another breath and gently shrugged off Ifan's grip. "I… I need to find Fane," Lorelai murmured.

"Who?" Ifan asked, still hovering.

"I need to find Fane," she repeated as though in a trance. "I need to. I need—"

Sebille swept in front of Lorelai and placed her hands on each of Lorelai's cheekbones. The elf's gaze was steady, unyielding, and held Lorelai's eyes intently. "Explain, dear one," she ordered in a low voice.

Lorelai's body trembled uncontrollably, but she managed a stiff nod. Sebille smiled and released her face before slinking away. Lorelai slowly turned around to her two expectant companions.

"I met with… Amadia," she said hoarsely. "She appeared in a form I… I did not recognize. A child. When I inquired to its origin, Amadia said…" Lorelai trailed off and fought back the hysteria threatening to dictate her mind. "She said it was… my daughter," she choked out. "I… did not know… my daughter. I died before I could… I… I always wanted to know… what… what happened to her, and… I… I must… know. I must."

"A daughter?" Ifan repeated, shocked. "And—wait, Amadia? The… _goddess_? What else did she say?"

Lorelai shook her head, then glanced back at the statue, hoping for a hint, anything at all. "She said that… that I was Godwoken and that she knew I did not want the power of a Divine," she said hesitantly, "that I must be given the incentive to pursue it. She said… she said I needed to find Fane to start me on this path. And… she said that… she would tell me more about my Melody if… if I did so."

"Beware of gods bearing gifts," Sebille said gravely. "Nothing is given freely or even out of benevolence."

"I know," Lorelai said, "but I need to find Fane. I do not care if this is some sort of… trap. I need to… I need—"

"I understand," Ifan interrupted when Lorelai felt herself beginning to babble. "This is important to you. You've been helping me, so it's my turn to return the favor. We'll find Fane as soon as possible." He clapped her firmly on the shoulder and gave her a warm smile.

"I will offer the same," Sebille said briskly. "Do you have any idea where he is? Or, who he is for that matter."

Lorelai clasped both of her hands in front of her and dipped her head into a small bow. "My sincerest gratitude," she said, feeling choked up. "Your kindness is unexpected and without parallel." She took a deep breath to calm herself before speaking again. "Amadia said that Fane remains in Fort Joy for now," she explained, "searching for a mask to hide his true face. She said that if I met him bearing such a gift, he would aid me."

"We just escaped Fort Joy," Ifan pointed out. "Are you saying that we need to go back?"

Lorelai nodded sheepishly. "I would gladly make the journey alone," she offered. "There is no need to put yourselves at risk for me."

"Oh, darling, it's far too late for that," Sebille said dismissively. "If we must go back, so be it. We have already escaped once, and practice makes perfect."

"Aye," Ifan agreed gruffly. "Now, what gift was Amadia talking about? Do you know?"

Lorelai laughed, certain only of that detail. "Well, my friends, we finally have a spot of luck. I know exactly how to make a certain mask that hides one's true face." She cupped her chin playfully, and Ifan smiled. "There are few things more delightful than ripping faces off corpses, yes?"

Sebille gave Lorelai a dark grin while Ifan's smile turned pained.

xXxXxXx

"And… how do we know who Fane is?" Ifan asked as they looked around.

It was strange to Lorelai, being the only one of the group with her face uncovered. Since the magisters were likely searching for them all, Ifan and Sebille were hooded, but Lorelai had her mask. She was unrecognizable. All three had affixed their broken source collars around their necks, and no magister had looked closely enough to notice the deception.

"If Fane is searching for a mask, one would assume he is an Undead," Lorelai stated, "or at least hiding his face. I am quite practiced in recognizing—oh, that may be he."

Lorelai had spotted a shrouded and hooded human talking animatedly with the blacksmith near the entrance of Fort Joy's Ghetto. As she approached, she grew certain she had the correct target.

"—rips off faces," the human was saying casually as he mimed a savage tearing motion with his hands. "It is a handy little tool that I—"

"Get away from me, you butcher!" the blacksmith snapped in reply. "There's no way I'm makin' something like that."

"What?" the human asked, clearly befuddled. "Why not? I will only rip off the faces of corpses, I assure you. No little mortal still in possession of its pathetically tiny life will be harmed." He hesitated. "Er, probably. Drastic times and all."

"Ugh," the blacksmith scoffed disgustedly. "Leave."

"Do you at least know where I can _find _one?"

Lorelai was now close enough to tap him on the shoulder, so she did. She smiled as she felt nothing but bone under her touch. The Undead gasped and skittered away with his hands held protectively over his face.

"There is no need for such a reaction," she scolded him with a smirk. She nodded to the blacksmith. "Forgive my friend," she said courteously. "He has a curious mind that can occasionally get him into trouble. He means no harm." She gestured with two fingers that the Undead follow her. "Come along, Fane," she said casually, and he jolted. "We have much to discuss."

"How do you…" Fane glanced between the blacksmith and Lorelai before huffing out a sigh. "Fine, fine," he muttered. "These creatures and their misguided morals astound me," he said under his breath as he followed Lorelai. "Now, you," he stated once the blacksmith was out of sight. "How do you know my name?"

Lorelai chuckled. "So cruel," she sighed. "You do not know who I am? I recognized your voice immediately."

"Enough games," Fane said. "This day has been irritating enough as it is."

"Mm," Lorelai mused. "I do apologize for tapping your shoulder back there. If I remember correctly, one must request permission from the other party before initiating physical contact."

Fane stopped short, then turned to her. "Oh… oh!" he gasped. "From the ship! Yes, yes, I remember now." He looked her up and down. "You were a bit more… skeletal at the time," he noted.

"And you were more elven," Lorelai countered. "It seems we reversed our situations quite nicely."

"Do… do you have my mask?" Fane inquired eagerly. "Is that what you are implying? You got it back from that blasted old woman?"

"Ehm, I do not have _your_ mask," Lorelai said, and he slumped. "I do, however, have a handy little face-ripping tool and a mask to spare."

Fane instantly brightened again. "Finally, some good news," he said. He crossed his arms and looked her up and down. "Although… I should not say that just yet," he backtracked, "since I assume you want something in return."

"Of course I do," Lorelai confirmed cheerfully, "but I would like to speak about it in a more private location, if you do not mind."

"Oh? How secretive," Fane said, but he followed her. "I do hope that—" He interrupted himself and paused. "By 'private,'" he said slowly, "are you insinuating 'intimate?' I am quite curious about the mechanics of your mating rituals…"

Lorelai snorted with laughter and patted Fane indulgently on the head until he swatted her hand away with an irritated grumble. "As flattered as I am, Fane," she said, "I do not know how the mechanics of two Undead…" Lorelai paused as she considered another possibility. "I suppose the masks would allow…" She smiled slightly and shook her head. "No, Fane, I was not soliciting you for your services," she said. "You did, however, give me something interesting to think about."

"Er, you are welcome, then," Fane said confusedly. "I suppose my notes on the topic must remain incomplete. For now."

"I am certain all the beaus will be flocking to you once I get you outfitted in a mask," Lorelai assured him. "I found a rather handsome human face. It was attached to a magister, unfortunately, but their kind made up the majority of the nearby corpses." She waved to her other two companions, and they approached cautiously. Fane did not spare them a glance. "Fane was on the ship with us," she explained. "He was the irritable elf reading the book in the corner."

"Oh," Ifan said in surprise. He looked Fane up and down. "You're an Undead, then? Huh. Two Undead on one ship. Fancy that."

"I am not an _Undead_," Fane scoffed. "I am an Eternal, a god to you people, it would seem."

"Ugh, not another one," Ifan sighed. "We _just_ got rid of the Red Prince."

Lorelai giggled and patted Ifan on the shoulder. "Perhaps this one will grow more palatable over time," she comforted him.

"I am starting to think this mask is not worth spending a moment longer in your company," Fane grumbled.

"No need for such animosity," Lorelai chided as she led the way back the direction from which they had come. "We are, after all, about to break you out of this wonderful prison."

"I thought you were giving me a mask," Fane replied, slight surprise coloring his voice.

"Do you not wish to escape?"

"Please, I could escape whenever I would like," Fane scoffed. "I simply have business here."

"Do you really?" Lorelai inquired cordially. "What is this business of yours?"

"Finding… a mask," Fane admitted. "I see your point." He cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose having a guide would be beneficial," he mused, "and having a mask would be even more so." He sighed in resignation and waved a dismissive hand. "Fine, fine. What is it you need from me in return?"

Lorelai glanced around, uneasy with all the magisters and sorcerers about. "…After we escape again," she said. "It could be a long conversation, and I do not wish to remain here."

"Escape again?" Fane echoed. "You have done so before?"

Lorelai nodded. "Yes. We came back to find you, actually, so you ought to feel grateful."

"I am not particularly surprised," Fane said thoughtfully. "It makes sense that mortals would be drawn to an Eternal such as I…" He hummed under his breath and pulled out a familiar notebook. "Interesting," he murmured as he began writing

"You think highly of yourself," Ifan noted.

"Yes, yes," Fane sighed. "Quite infuriating to you, I am sure. Can we get the pleasantries over with now?"

"Ah, of course," Lorelai said. "I am Lorelai, this is Ifan, and this is Sebille. Respectively, we are a free-spirited Undead, a mercenary tasked with killing our delightful Divine, and a former slave bent on assassinating her former Master. Do you have a particular task you would like to complete?"

"As a matter of fact," Fane said, no surprise in his voice, "I do. I intend to find out what happened to my people. There is an excavation site in the Blackpits on the Reaper's Coast that may have some clues. Assuming we manage to get off this infernal island at all."

"There is no question of that," Lorelai dismissed. "I am rather fed up with islands. Let us be off, then."


	18. Insufferable

_thanks a ton for reading! i always appreciate reviews if ya have something to say, and please enjoy! ciao_

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17\. Insufferable

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"Escaping was… less difficult than I expected," Fane said as he shook an unidentified glob of sewer slime from his left sleeve. He was tempted to collect a sample for further research, as the viscous quality was different from anything else he had studied on this miserable world populated by mortal facsimiles of the Seven Lords from his time.

Fane gazed at the slime for another moment. He decided he did not want to touch it again. There were other things to study.

"Yes, we have had practice," that masked Undead elf said as she dipped a bare hand into a large pool of the green slime. "This feels bloody disgusting!" she said with an eager grin on her face. "Disgusting!"

"Lorelai, I know you can't get sick," the bearded human man said, "but touching that slop seems… unwise."

"When did you become the voice of reason, Ifan?" the Undead replied as she stuck her other hand deep into the pool of sludge.

The human paused for a moment in thought, then grinned. "Shit," he realized. "I don't think I've ever been the voice of reason before. I changed my mind," he said boisterously. "Eat the slime; I dare you."

This human had sharp teeth. Fane barely resisted the urge grab the human's face and inspect his teeth to see if such a thing was natural or manufactured. Fane had noticed that, though the orcs, imps, and lizards had pointed teeth, all the humans had flatter teeth characteristic of omnivores. Therefore, this human demonstrated an anomaly of either genetics or personality. Both were worth noting.

On the other hand, Fane had noticed that few of these creatures reacted well to being grabbed and examined. He restrained himself. Reluctantly.

"As you are the voice of reason," the Undead said with a large grin, "I shall follow your sage advice."

Without a beat of hesitation, the Undead tipped her head back and dropped the glob of slime into her mouth. She blinked and smiled brightly as her companions watched her with traces of horror in their expressions. The Undead snorted with laughter and licked the remaining slime off her fingers.

"I cannot taste anything, dear ones," the Undead reminded them. "I seem to have epidural nerves, but not others."

"You would have done the same if you _could_ taste, darling," the scarred elf said lazily. "Do not attempt to play innocent with me."

Fane had gathered that the elf's scar was a slave mark forced upon her by the lizards. Fane was not surprised that Zorl-Stissa's look-alikes had enforced slavery, as the Lady's irritating arrogance had been unparalleled. He felt some sympathy for this elf but was more intrigued by how the mark seemed to enforce the will of whoever was the Master. Fane had attempted to ask the elf about it, but she had threatened to gouge him with that little needle of hers if he spoke of it again. The concept of the elf managing to kill him was amusing, but Fane accepted her reticence.

"Dear one," the Undead cried, "my innocence is not play! I am quite honest in my pure intentions."

The Undead was the most forthcoming out of the trio, but it was difficult to determine her sincerity. Her tone was incessantly amiable, so much that most of her words sounded sarcastic. She treated Fane with no discernable suspicion, unlike the other two did, but she seemed almost amused by Fane, perhaps even condescending. That fact was supremely irritating, but Fane would _try_ to take the high road. She had done Fane a service, after all, and she seemed to be the leader of this group. Unfortunately, she also felt the need to initiate conversation at any moment. That was even more supremely irritating.

"Elves, sorcerers, and Undead don't have pure intentions to speak of," the human said, but his smile indicated he did not mean his words.

"Perhaps the fact that I am all three negates the impurity of my intentions," the Undead offered. "The mathematics do not support it, but magic can warp logical conclusions, yes? Both Source and the Undead are rather magical, so my true intentions shall remain an eternal mystery—which I hear is a very alluring state of being."

Fane felt a small jolt at the word 'eternal,' but he repressed it as soon as it appeared. This was not the time to be absorbed in the past; for that, he would need to return to the Blackpits.

The scarred elf rolled her eyes at the Undead and the human clapped the Undead on the shoulder. The Undead laughed brightly before peeling off her mask, becoming a heavily-tattooed skeleton with grayed bones. Fane wondered why she had removed the mask. Even if they had escaped Fort Joy,—through a disgusting sewer, no less—there was danger from these closed-minded mortals everywhere. At least the other two mortals did not seem bothered by the prospect of skeleton people wandering about their dismal world.

The Undead turned to face Fane, and he braced himself for more inane conversation. Instead she stuck a hand between the buttons of her tattered cloak and pulled a small satchel seemingly out of her ribcage. She flicked it open and shoved her whole arm into it, which was impossible. Clearly, the bag was magicked, so Fane watched closely as the Undead scrounged around for a moment before letting out a small gasp. She held up a mask covered by a human face and offered it to Fane.

"As promised," the Undead said cheerily.

Fane eagerly snatched the mask from her hand and pressed it over his skull. His body shimmered with gold, and then he felt the wind. He found himself smiling slightly at the sensation, realizing how he had missed his sense of touch. The Undead seemed to notice, as she laughed softly.

"Rather pleasant to be able to feel after so long," she said.

"Yes," Fane said distractedly while he inspected his new body. "How long for you exactly?"

"Some four thousand years or so," the Undead replied, "which has delighted many a scholar and the like, as much of that history has been lost. Unfortunately, I hardly left the forest in those days, so I remember little of import. That has disappointed people severely, but I do think the time involved many warring sorcerers and some dragons flying about."

As always, the Undead offered far more information than necessary, but she was older than Fane had expected. She was still far younger than any Eternal, but only the elves' mortal lifespan of over a millennium rivaled her age. Perhaps she knew something of the Eternals without being aware of the information's importance.

"Now, allow me to explain how I hope you may aid me," the Undead continued, so Fane paused in his musings to give her his attention. The Undead dipped her head slightly and gestured he follow her. He obliged, and the other two did the same. "I remember that you were interested in the Seven, correct?" the Undead began, and Fane instantly gazed at her with deep interest. The Undead chuckled. "Yes, well, I met one of them. I poked a statue and was promptly deposited into the Hall of Echoes, where Amadia was waiting for me."

"Lady Amadia?" Fane asked eagerly. "She is truly alive?"

The Undead shrugged. "Alive is difficult to define," she said, "but she did manifest herself to me and claim to be the goddess. The extent of the power she wielded encouraged me to give her the benefit of the doubt."

"Why would she summon _you_?" Fane inquired with narrowed eyes. He looked the Undead up and down. Perhaps Amadia had noticed the same thing he did, that this creature was old enough to at least garner some attention.

"I hardly know," the Undead said airily, "but I wish she had not. She calls me her Godwoken and desires to promote me to Divine. I would refuse, but she is holding some information that encourages me to play her game for now."

"Blackmail?" Fane supposed. He was not surprised. The Seven Lords would have no issue resorting to such means.

"Not exactly," the Undead replied. "She implied that she knows what became of my family from my mortal life, but she refused to tell me more unless she was able to meet you. From what you said, I assume the reason is because you are of the same race, correct?"

"Perhaps," Fane mused. Amadia could shed some light on his people's fate—and the fate of his own family. He could somewhat understand the Undead's willingness to perform a small task in return for such information. He looked intently at the Undead. "Well?" he asked. "How do we meet her?"

The Undead shrugged. "I have not the faintest idea," she replied with unnecessary cheer.

Fane sighed with irritation. "Of course you do not know," he muttered. "How could you? Returning to such a place is beyond your limited means."

The Undead laughed loudly. "Yes," she said cheekily. "Yes it is. Is it within your means?"

Fane blanched and glared at the unconcerned Undead. "It could be," he snapped, "if I knew where this Hall of Echoes is."

"Mm," the Undead hummed. "A shame. That would have made things far easier." She turned to her companions. "Any ideas?"

"The Seekers seem to be collecting Godwoken, so they might have some idea," the human suggested. "As much as I don't want to return to their camp, we do need to deliver the weapons. Might as well see if we can get Leya to take off the new-blood's source collar while we're at it."

"The voice of reason again," the Undead snickered. "You are developing quite the unfortunate habit." She turned to the scarred elf. "Sebille, would you like to take up the responsibility?"

"Believe me, darling," the scarred elf said in a soft purr, "your pacifist ways would not agree with my concept of reason."

"Gracious," the Undead murmured, "we have a conundrum…" She huffed and glanced at Fane. "Would you be the voice of reason, my Eternal friend?" she inquired cordially.

Fane glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and she tilted her head to the side. "I doubt I have a choice," he grumbled. "…Must you speak to me, however?" he appealed to her in frustration. "Really, this place is bothersome enough without your chatter."

"Ah, a shame," the Undead lamented. "I suppose I can only speak _at_ you, then, but it shall suffice."

Fane closed his eyes to suppress his exasperation, reminding himself that he needed the Undead at least until he could contact Amadia. Then, he could leave to do his own research, perhaps even with Amadia's help.

"You know," the human piped up, "we should probably talk about the fact that you're Godwoken."

"Is there much to talk about, really?" the Undead sighed as though it were nothing. "I met a goddess in the Hall of Echoes, she told me she expected me to replace the deceased Lucian as Divine, she incentivized me a tad so that I did not immediately reject her silly proposal, and now we have a new friend to rectify this!"

Fane rolled his eyes.

"Okay," the human acknowledged. "Maybe there isn't much to talk about after all."

"Then, how about we stop talking?" Fane muttered under his breath.

"Ah, brilliant," the Undead laughed, answering Ifan. "I am, of course, planning to find a different Godwoken and encouraging him or her or it to ascend as Divine—provided this Godwoken is not utterly cruel or incompetent."

"Whatever makes you feel better, darling," the scarred elf said indulgently.

The trio chattered among themselves like old friends, and Fane listened, occasionally recording the topic of conversation when it began growing metaphysical or incomprehensible. The Undead was the one who usually introduced strange philosophical musings, the human employed a method of worthless casual ribbing, and the scarred elf remained quiet until she felt the need to offer a careful sentence or two. It was interesting to note that the human and the scarred elf addressed the Undead but generally ignored each other unless to trade a subtle threat veiled with humor. The Undead seemed to lead the group, run the conversations, and mediate the tension between her companions.

From what Fane had read, the Undead were evil creatures of cataclysmic destruction, the elves were savage cannibals, and the humans were the heroes of every story—and often villains, but those humans were generally considered anomalies. These conclusions did not seem to hold true, which only furthered Fane's assumption that these mortals' books were generally worthless. How one came by any trustworthy information in this primitive world was a mystery.

"And we have arrived!" the Undead cried, interrupting Fane in the midst of recording the different walking styles among the trio.

Fane looked up to see a grassy cliff face covered by vines. "Charming," he stated.

Despite vocal misgivings from her other companions, the Undead ascended, still unmasked, and strode forward without waiting for the others to join her.

"Damn reckless girl," Ifan muttered as he scaled the vines with unexpected agility.

"After you, dear," the scarred elf told Fane demurely, a feral glint in her eye.

Fane gave her a withering glare but deigned to climb the vines. The scarred elf was right behind him but sneaked forwards the moment she reached the top of the cliff. This was likely because of a shout from ahead: "The Undead is back! To arms!"

Curious, Fane stepped forward cautiously and peered into a crude camp filled with armed humans as well as a few members of the other races. They were gathered in a ring around the Undead, who seemed unbothered by the aggression, her hood still thrown back.

"Did I not inform you all that I would return with your desired weapons?" the Undead inquired calmly. "Additionally, did I not already prove that I could take all _your_ weapons if I pleased?"

"Stand down, Seekers," another voice called out. A mustached human man with dark skin pushed his way through the crowd to stand beside the Undead. "That is an _order_," the man emphasized, and most of the humans hesitantly sheathed their weapons.

"Gareth!" the Undead practically squealed. "It is a pleasure to see you again!"

The human looked her up and down impassively. "I see that my first assumption was correct," he said. "You are an Undead."

"I bloody am," the Undead replied cheerfully. "I do apologize for causing such emotional distress to all of you, but my companions and I did find the weapons to defeat the Shriekers. I would warn you, however, that most technology from the time of Braccus Rex is rather unstable. Do be—"

"H-how d-d-do you know that?" a different human man stammered from nearby.

The Undead laughed. "Because I was there to see it, of course," she said cheerfully. That caused a great stir among the mortals, and many began whispering among each other. Fane made a mental note to research this Braccus Rex.

"Anyhow," the Undead said, again speaking to the least angry human, "since I was there for Braccus Rex's reign and subsequent ill-conceived resurrections and such, I beg you to be careful with these weapons and to not allow the magisters to continue to find and abuse his research."

"Your advice, my friend," the human said warmly, "will be heeded. I deeply apologize for my soldiers' reactions to your presence and hope that you will still join in the assault to take control of the Lady Vengeance."

There was another stir from the bystanders along with a few shouts of disapproval but, when the human raised his hand, everyone fell silent. This human was clearly a respected leader.

"Before I accept or deny your offer," the Undead said with a laugh, "I would like to mention that I have been named Godwoken." There was another series of exaggerated gasps. "It was rather disconcerting to converse with a goddess, but such it is," the Undead finished.

"…Godwoken?" the human breathed. He stared deeply at the Undead, then jerked backwards, a hand on his heart. "I can see it," he said softly. "Yes." He grinned widely and patted the Undead heartily on the shoulder. "We have a Godwoken again!" he called out to the others. "This is a momentous occasion!"

There was some cheering, but most voiced disapproval.

"Do we really want an Undead Godwoken?" a third human growled. "I'd rather have none than trust this _thing_ as our… savior."

"If you try to get rid of Lorelai," the other human—oh, this was getting ridiculous; there were simply too many humans to address them as such—Ifan growled, "then you will have no life for her to save."

"Agreed," the scarred elf purred, flipping a dagger in one hand. "Think hard, kittens."

"No harm will come to Lorelai or you, her companions," the human named Gareth promised. He tossed a glare to the human who had contested the idea. "Isn't that right?" The angry human lowered his eyes and nodded stiffly.

"Ah, I am grateful for your peace and open-mindedness," the Undead replied happily. She bowed to Gareth with her hands clasped in front of her. "I would love nothing better than to escape this bloody swamp and all of the curses of Braccus Rex."

"Yes, of course," Gareth said. "Now that you have brought the weapons, we will begin the assault immediately."

"Brilliant!" the Undead laughed. "Let us commandeer a vessel." She pointed demurely to Fane's hiding spot, and he widened his eyes slightly, not having realized anyone had noticed him. "My sorcerer friend would appreciate if you would remove his collar like you did ours," she said graciously, and the entire camp turned to stare at Fane.

Fane cleared his throat and stepped into the main camp, joining the Undead and her companions within the ring of cautious soldiers. "Hello, mort—er, people," he said uncomfortably.

"And he looks to be human, just like most of you!" the Undead said without a discernible hint of malice. "Not a threat! Nothing like a scary, scary Undead!"

Gareth chuckled and shook his head. "We deserved that," he told the Undead humbly. "Feel free to send him to Leya."

"I appreciate your kindness," the Undead replied demurely.

"I apologize for not being here yesterday," Gareth added. "I could have prevented any hostility. I heard about your injuries; have you healed?"

"Healing is the opposite of what I needed," the Undead laughed, "but I have mended my bones and refurbished the damaged tattoos. One does not survive for millennia by being easy to murder."

"I can imagine," Gareth replied. He looked to Fane and smiled. "Come with me," he said, "and we'll get that collar off of you."

"My companions and I shall join you," the Undead proclaimed. "I would prefer for us to all stay together at this moment in time."

"Delightful," Fane muttered.


	19. Dead Alive

18\. Dead Alive

* * *

Lorelai surveyed the Shrine of Amadia with her hands on her hips. It did not look much like the goddess as far as Lorelai could tell, but it was difficult to compare a being of glowing golden light to a giant stone face with water falling from its eyes.

"Are you here for Amadia's grace as well?" a soft voice inquired. Lorelai turned and was met with a robed and masked woman lingering near the shrine. Her outfit was quite pretty, covering her body in soft purple and white fabric, but the woman's mask was not quite as obscuring.

Lorelai tilted her head to the side. "You are an Undead, are you not?" she asked instead of bothering to explain just how close she was to Amadia. The robed woman jerked back in surprise, staring fearfully at Lorelai, who wished she were wearing her mask so that she could have rolled her eyes. "Calm yourself, my friend," Lorelai sighed. She pushed back her hood,—she had replaced it when Leya had recoiled in horror at the sight of Lorelai—eliciting a soft gasp from the robed woman. "Yes, yes, I am aware of how beautiful I am," she said airily. "Did I guess correctly, my friend?"

"I…"

The robed woman was saved from answering by Ifan, Sebille, and a newly-uncollared Fane. "Leya still agreed to remove the collar?" Lorelai inquired. "I was worried I had frightened her too badly for that."

"Yes, and she asked us to apologize to you from her," Ifan said gruffly. "She apparently didn't know that Gareth approved your presence here."

"I am glad of that," Lorelai said with a chuckle that served to mask the burst of irritation rushing through her. "I appreciate that she chose to allow my actions to overcome any Undead prejudice she had. Speaking of which," Lorelai said abruptly, keen to turn the conversation elsewhere, "I believe I have found another Undead." The robed woman cringed when Lorelai pointed a skeletal hand at her.

"Oh?" Sebille crooned, stepping forwards to inspect the woman. "And who are you, kitten?"

"I am Gratiana," the woman said, and Lorelai instantly stiffened in shock. "I found this—"

"You said your name was Gratiana?" Lorelai interrupted sharply, staring intently at the masked woman. She gazed back at Lorelai with a visibly nervous posture but deigned to nod. "You would never remember this," Lorelai said quietly, "but we have crossed paths once before."

Gratiana stared, studying Lorelai intently. "I have no memory of this," she admitted cautiously. "I… apologize." With a small gasp, Gratiana pressed a hand over where her heart would have been. "Are you… a victim of Braccus as well?"

Lorelai shook her head and wondered if the Seekers knew of this woman's past. "I never had the distinct pleasure of offending the man," Lorelai said in a near-growl, "nor did I ever actually exchange words with you. I was present, however, when you purged and burned the entire village of Silverleaf to ashes. I spent days burying the hundreds of mutilated corpses of every man, woman, and child there."

Lorelai watched Gratiana for her reaction, but Gratiana only inhaled a trembling breath. She said nothing, so Lorelai decided to continue.

"I remember vividly," Lorelai recalled thoughtfully, beginning to pace slowly in front of Gratiana, "how a woman who had had the luck to be in the forest returned to her village and simply stood there, shocked enough that she did not react to the Undead in her midst. She scoured the town for her family, but all the corpses were so unrecognizably charred that she could not identify her husband or any of her five children." Lorelai paused and tapped her chin, the sound of bone against bone making Gratiana flinch slightly. That filled Lorelai with dark amusement. "I remember that her name was Helen," Lorelai mused. "I do not know what became of her. I doubt she had a pleasant life."

Gratiana bowed her head deeply and took another strangled breath. Had she been able to, Lorelai wondered if the woman would be sobbing violently. "I do not deny the terrible atrocities I committed," Gratiana said hoarsely, "but I have spent every moment I can to help heal the damage I caused in Braccus's name. He… he was a great man at one point, but I… encouraged him to grow in power. Such a thing corrupts, but… but I refused to see it. I fed him more and more power, but he was never satisfied…"

"I saw the extent of the damage you caused," Lorelai said unsympathetically. "Those villagers, those lands you annihilated so viciously, were culled for the sake of your childlike infatuation with an evil man."

"I do not require your compassion or your forgiveness," Gratiana said quietly, her head still bowed. "I cannot undo my crimes, but I can find a measure of peace in Amadia's love. You see, I... I found this shrine, heard Amadia weeping, and wept myself. That very day… I was finally aware of what I had done," she said almost dreamily. "I cast myself from a cliff, but Braccus refused to give me rest even in death. He stole my soul, turned me into this… monstrosity, but this half-existence has at least given me the chance to help those suffering in any way I can."

"I have no pity for you," Lorelai stated, unmoved, "but nor do I seek revenge of some sort." Pushing through her reluctance, Lorelai retrieved the soul jar from her bag and held it out to Gratiana. "Take it," she said bitterly, "but never forget that this 'half-existence' that you so despise is still more than those whose very souls you absorbed have. Because of you, they were denied the Hall of Echoes, erased forever and with no flesh to preserve their memory."

"I… shall not forget," Gratiana said breathlessly, her gaze fixed on the soul jar. She took it hesitantly as though she expected Lorelai to snatch it back—and Lorelai _was_ tempted to do so—and unsealed the lid with shaking hands. A pale wisp rose from the jar and was absorbed into Gratiana, who sighed deeply and dropped the empty jar so that it shattered on the ground. "Oh, to feel again," she murmured. She gazed at Lorelai and clasped her hands in front of her. "Perhaps you are right," she murmured, "that I do not deserve absolution, but Amadia can forgive all crimes. You have done me a great service no matter your personal feelings, and for that I thank you. May you walk in Amadia's grace."

Lorelai chuckled darkly and shook her head. "I seem to have no choice in the matter," she said dryly. "I do hope we never meet again."

Gratiana stiffened in surprise, but Lorelai only spun on one heel and stalked away.

"No matter what she did in her youth," Ifan said carefully, "she seems to be atoning now. Doesn't that count for something in your mind?"

Lorelai repressed an irritated sigh and paused so that she could eye him dispassionately. "You were present during the annihilation of the elven Homelands, were you not?" she inquired. Ifan grimaced, his eyes filling with pain, and nodded once. "Imagine such a massacre," she said, "but repeated dozens of times as Gratiana burned every victim to death. The agonizing screams of thousands of innocents echoed across the entirety of Rivellon. The tragedy I witnessed was a minor one, yet it still haunts me at times. Do you follow thus far?"

Ifan nodded once, his eyes downcast. Sebille looked uncharacteristically solemn, and even Fane was watching her with acute intensity.

"Now, the Deathfog tragedy at least wiped out this horrific Black Ring, did it not?" Lorelai continued. She waited for Ifan's stiff nod before speaking again. "Gratiana's massacres fueled the already immense powers of a greedy, cruel man. Additionally, her methods did not just kill painfully. No, she took their souls, Ifan. She absorbed their very souls, denying them any kind of afterlife, and gave them to a sadistic tyrant."

Ifan gazed at her with a tormented, conflicted expression on his face, so Lorelai softened her posture and gave him a small nod.

"Any of you may forgive her if you wish," she said gently. "I shall not judge such a thing, nor will my positive opinion of anyone be affected. In truth, it is not my nature to hold grudges," she added with a sigh, "but this one has been difficult for me to release. I do not profess to understand the depths of Gratiana's regret or her sufferings since the days of Braccus Rex, but I cannot deny the existence of my bitterness."

"And yet," Sebille said curiously, "you returned her soul. Why?"

"I do not believe that I have the authority or wisdom to deny anyone their life or existence," Lorelai replied with a chuckle. "Perhaps it will cause me myself to be erased from existence someday, hm?"

Both Ifan and Sebille seemed troubled by Lorelai's responses, but she did not ask for further details on their opinions. She was tired of dwelling on the past, of being constantly reminded of Braccus Rex. The Source King was simply everywhere here, but at least they would be leaving this cursed island behind soon enough. Gareth was rallying the troops, and it was only a matter of time before everyone met up to storm the Lady Vengeance.

"Onwards, soldiers!" Gareth cried, right on schedule. "We fight for the ideals of our Divine Lucian, the hope in our Godwoken, and the inevitability of a peaceful world!"

"Whenever someone talks about inevitability," Lorelai commented, as soldiers cheered and rushed by, "it sounds like a threat."

"If the world becomes peaceful," Ifan muttered, "then I'll be out of a job. That'd be a shame."

Lorelai chuckled and nodded. "It would make existence far less interesting," she said, "but it would have its benefits."

"True, but such a thing is impossible," Sebille said dryly. "Why bother discussing this?"

"Gareth brought it up," Lorelai pointed out. "Speaking of, however, everyone seems to be running off with swords drawn. We ought to follow."

xXxXxXx

"I… did not want to believe it," Lorelai breathed in dismay as she stared at the mutilated skeletal bodies dangling from crosses at the entrance to the docks, "but those truly are Shriekers. This is… despicable." Lorelai paused to wrangle her temper before she shot fire at someone out of pure fury. "I do not understand how people are capable of such cruelty," she eventually said.

"People have no sympathy for those they believe to be monsters," Sebille growled. "A persuasive leader can delight the public with genocides."

"You mortals truly are savages," Fane commented.

"Yes, sometimes," Lorelai said quietly. "I wonder, though, if the Eternals were always innocent of cruelty. Do you, for example, have sympathy for those you consider savages?"

Fane did not answer, and Lorelai kept her gaze fixed on the Shriekers. There were at least five of them in front of the gate that protected the docks, each surrounded by a protective shield and by the corpses of animals and people who had gotten into range of their deadly attacks. The Shriekers themselves were humanoid figures so decayed and disfigured that any one's species or general features were indiscernible. Each, however, was tied to a cross, crucified in the sun with flies buzzing around them.

If Lorelai had been wearing her mask, she would likely be shedding tears of pure fury.

"Is there a cure?" Ifan asked without any expectation in his voice. Lorelai shook her head, and he sighed. "Well, one thing to do, then," he said grimly.

Lorelai nodded and beckoned Gareth, who was speaking to the Seekers. He strode to her without hesitation. "How do you wish to proceed?" she asked him.

"My Seekers and I will lead the assault on the ship," Gareth said. "Would you and your companions take care of the Seekers and distract the magisters until we gain control?"

Lorelai glanced at the others, but no one had any objection. "Will Alexander be present?" she inquired.

"Undoubtedly," Gareth replied with a grave look in his eyes. "Be careful."

"Ah, that is wonderful!" Lorelai cheered, much to Gareth's surprise. Ifan laughed and patted his crossbow affectionately.

"Shadow's Eye is getting impatient," he said. "Let's get this done."

Gareth seemed to want to ask questions but thought better of it. "Seekers!" Gareth shouted. "Move out!" The Seekers all made hoarse battle cries and rushed off behind Gareth, their weapons drawn.

"Now that the rabble has been cleared," Lorelai laughed when the last Seeker rushed out of sight, "let us maim and cripple some magisters!"

"Kill them too," Sebille piped up.

"Especially Alexander," Ifan agreed.

Lorelai chuckled darkly and lifted one of the purging wands, aiming at the first Shrieker. She cast the purge spell that instantly disintegrated both the barrier and the Shrieker itself. The pained screams of the dead creature still echoing in the air, Lorelai purged the rest of the Shriekers. All that remained were empty crosses and clots of cursed blood desecrating the ground.

Her anger still simmering, Lorelai returned the wand to her pack and strode forwards with unmatched confidence. Her companions drew their weapons and followed at her heels.


	20. The Morality in Murder

19\. The Morality in Murder

* * *

"—trying to escape!" a man's voice could be heard fretting the moment Lorelai paused under the archway that had been guarded by the Shriekers. "Intercept the Seekers before they succeed!"

"Alexander," Ifan murmured with dark delight. "Perfect." He winked at Lorelai and gave her a sharp toothed grin. "I'll find some high ground," he said. "Anything else before we give 'em hell?"

"Mm…" Lorelai gazed at the unaware group of magisters. She did not remember the last time she had fought in a group, so she scrounged for the tactical knowledge that she should have stored away somewhere. "Allow me to focus on the heavily armored ones," she decided, "as they will deflect most weapons. Ifan, focus on Alexander, of course, and cast any support spells you have."

"No problem," Ifan said primly.

"Sebille," Lorelai continued, "please rid us of the gheists,"—Lorelai pointed at two disfigured creatures with wicked claws who might have been humanoids at one time—"and Fane, please focus on the elementalists. The Silent Monks are of lowest priority. I shall leave them to Bunny."

"Sounds wonderful," Sebille agreed, and Fane inclined his head.

"Allow me to draw their attention," Lorelai continued, "while Sebille and Ifan remain out of sight for as long as possible. Fane, remain at a distance with ranged magic."

"Fine, fine," Fane replied impatiently. "Is this all?"

"As far as I am concerned," Lorelai laughed. "Off we go."

Sebille and Ifan both crouched down and moved to the shadows. Sebille cast a spell that made her body blend into the environment, and Ifan crept up the nearby ladder, his footsteps silent as a wolf's paws in the forest. Lorelai waited for them to get into position before cracking her knuckles and stepping forwards daintily. She tapped down the stairs and began preparing a spell. There were five magisters, two gheists, and two silent monks in total, probably the largest group of red-robed people gathered together that Lorelai had seen. And then, there was Alexander. Lorelai had to give him some credit, at least, for wearing the same collar as the rest of the sorcerers. He was still cruel and deserving of death, but he was not a hypocrite in this one rule.

By now, Lorelai was rather amused that she had not yet been noticed. She was standing in plain view at the foot of the stairs, watching these oblivious idiots as they argued furiously and did absolutely nothing. Lorelai allowed them a few more seconds of peace before she coughed to get everyone's attention. The intense conversation among the magisters halted abruptly as everyone spun to face her. One of the magisters screamed at the sight of her Undead-ness, and all of them drew their weapons.

"Such tempers," Lorelai tutted, and she made no move towards aggression.

"The escaped sorcerers," Alexander growled hatefully, perfectly content with aggression. "Kill them!"

"If you insist," Lorelai murmured.

Lorelai snapped her fingers, and Bunny appeared behind one of the Silent Monks. Bunny hissed, drawing everyone's attention, which allowed Lorelai to toss a blistering tongue of flame at the first armored soldier. Her magic shields resisted it for a moment, but the intensity of Lorelai's flames soon burned through. Before anyone could even think about attacking Lorelai, the magister was being roasted alive.

Then, everything began happening in quick succession.

Bunny wrapped herself around the Silent Monk. Her thick body slowly began crushing the man's bones, and she easily ignored the Monk's struggles and offensive magic. Lorelai kept an eye on her familiar, ready to dissipate Bunny if she looked to be struggling, but the snake was sending intermittent thoughts of happiness towards Lorelai, so she did not want to ruin Bunny's fun.

The burning magister was writhing on the ground in agony, so Lorelai stopped blasting flame. If anyone tried to heal the magister, her red-hot armor would continue cooking her body, undoing any physical regenerative effects. If someone tried cooling her down, the woman's melting flesh would fuse to the cold metal. At this point, the magister should survive, however hideously scarred, but she would be incapacitated for the rest of the fight.

Lorelai forced herself to be satisfied with only that.

Shortly after the magister fell, Alexander cast a spell strengthen his allies' magic resistances, and one of the elementalists tried to heal the burning woman. As expected, she had a momentary reprieve before her armor seared her skin. Now that everyone was focused on Lorelai again, Sebille reappeared to shove her needle into the throat of the nearest gheist. The gheist roared furiously and spun to face her, so Sebille traded her needle for two daggers and began to engage it.

Lorelai felt the effects of Ifan's encouragement spell, and then the air grew charged with electricity as a lightning bolt hit the distracted elementalist. The attack was strong, very strong, and Lorelai mentally stored that tidbit about Fane. If he was an Eternal as he claimed, then he was likely even more talented in the arcane arts than Lorelai herself. It could be quite interesting to have him along, and Lorelai looked forwards to trading information with him—if he were receptive to such a thing, of course.

When the other elementalist tossed a spear of ice Lorelai's way, she hastily threw a ward up that absorbed most of the damage. A sheen of ice still coated Lorelai's hands, but it did not restrict her movement or ability to cast. The two other armored magisters rushed towards Lorelai, so she used the frost on her hands as inspiration to slick the ground in front of them with ice. One tripped and landed on his back with a heavy clatter, but the other pushed through.

Adrenaline filled Lorelai with a pleasant buzz, and she eagerly morphed both of her arms into tentacles. One knocked the helmet off the magister's head, and the other struck him right on his exposed face. The magister howled in pain and pressed both hands to his face, so Lorelai blasted his gauntlets with a small dose of scorching flame. The man screamed as his skin melted against the metal, and he ripped his hands away instinctively, tearing the flesh off his face in the process.

Lorelai took advantage of this to skip backwards so that she was standing next to Fane. He cast her a quick glance but did not otherwise react. He had already taken out one of the elementalists; the woman was nothing but a scorch mark on the stone from another lightning bolt.

On the other side of the courtyard, Sebille ripped one of the gheists apart and skipped out of the other's way. She was bleeding from some nasty claw marks on her arm, but she displayed no discomfort from the wound. Ifan was sending elemental bolts onto Alexander, straining to break through his magical armor as he skipped out of the way of Alexander's hasty blasts of magic.

Suddenly, Ifan whistled loudly. A gray wolf nearly as tall as a human materialized next to Alexander and began tearing through his robes with ferocious intensity. Delighted by this new ally, Lorelai remembered to check on Bunny. Her familiar had crushed the first Silent Monk into a contorted mass and was attempting to wrap herself around the second. She had a small cut on her side and a few torn scales where magic had hit her, but she was otherwise unharmed.

The armored magister knocked down by the ice struggled to his feet and rushed to his disfigured companion. He tried to drag the writhing man off the battlefield, but a crossbow bolt struck him in the foot, piercing through his boot to pin him to the ground. Lorelai sent out a blast of flame at the two at the same time as Fane summoned a lightning bolt to chain across the battlefield. Both armored magisters were electrocuted, their metal armor conducting the lightning efficiently, and they were stunned, unable to escape from the pool of flame Lorelai had created around them.

The second gheist screamed as Sebille slashed its throat, and she instantly threw a dagger that embedded itself in the second elementalist's head with unerring accuracy. The remaining Silent Monk collapsed under the pressure of Bunny's coils and, suddenly, only Alexander was left.

The Godwoken backed away, summoning magic around his hands, while Ifan's wolf stalked towards him, a vicious snarl on its face, when the ground shuddered and split. A giant worm, a Voidwoken larger and more hideous than Lorelai had ever seen, screeched horrifically as it dragged itself from the ground and lashed out with oily limbs. It writhed wildly and fixed its beady eyes on Fane.

"See?" Alexander shrieked, staring at the Voidwoken. "This is why Source must be eradicated!" He sent his gathered magic at the creature. "We must destroy—"

A crossbow bolt pierced him through the heart, and Divine Alexander collapsed to the ground. Ifan's wolf spun to begin tearing at the Voidwoken, and every other one of Lorelai's companions attacked the Voidwoken without hesitation. Lorelai sent magic its way indiscriminately, only pausing to dissipate Bunny, who would not be effective against such a large enemy.

The Voidwoken managed to injure the wolf, tossing it across the courtyard, and Sebille only barely managed to avoid being snapped up by the creature. Other than spraying poison towards Fane and screeching at Lorelai, however, the Voidwoken managed nothing else before Sebille's daggers tore open its gelatinous flesh. The creature's dying wails shook the walls of the courtyard, but it collapsed into a pool of black ooze and spreading blood.

In the silence that followed, Sebille flicked her hands, dislodging clumps of blood and decaying flesh, and she turned to Lorelai with a grimace.

"We ought to find another melee attacker," she said dryly. "I should not be the one to catch every single blood spatter."

Lorelai laughed and skipped over to her. "I could summon some rain for you if you would like," she offered, and Sebille nodded gratefully. Lorelai formed a cloud above Sebille and allowed it to burst with gentle rain, washing most of the gore from Sebille's body. Once the rain petered out, Lorelai sent a blast of hot air that dried Sebille in an instant.

"You, darling, are very useful to keep around," Sebille said with a smirk as she flicked off the remaining bits of Voidwoken from her clothes.

Lorelai bowed ostentatiously before casting her gaze around. She spotted Ifan hopping down from a ladder nearby and rushed to him. "Ifan!" she cried out, grabbing the man's attention. "You did it! Alexander is wonderfully dead, and the magisters are likewise or terribly maimed!"

Ifan gave her a brilliant grin and clapped her on the shoulder with enough force that she could feel the pressure. "We did it indeed," he said. He pulled her into an unexpected bear hug that filled Lorelai with a mixture of joy and pride. "Thank you for your help, Lorelai," Ifan said into her shoulder, his voice soft enough that only she would hear it. "To be honest, I doubt I would have succeeded without you."

"And Sebille," Lorelai added in an attempt to hide how nervous this proximity with Ifan was making her.

Ifan pulled back, an eyebrow raised, but kept a hand on her shoulder. He snuck a glance at Sebille. After a moment, he shrugged. "You may be right," he said noncommittally. Lorelai snorted with laughter and gave him a second quick hug that he returned without hesitation.

"Are you planning on… leaving now?" Lorelai inquired carefully after she released him. "Your contract being fulfilled and all…"

A flash of surprise and then uncertainty ran through Ifan's gaze. "...A contract isn't over until I turn it in," he decided gruffly.

"Ah, wonderful!" Lorelai cried with a delight that she did not completely feel.

Lorelai wanted to keep him from going to Reaper's Coast, if only so that he would be unable to leave her company. Ifan was her first friend in longer than she could remember and one of the very few who had not reacted to her lack of life. Losing him and Sebille would be a deep blow to Lorelai, one that she could not bear to suffer just yet. She knew, however, that she had no right to force her wishes onto her companions. They would decide their fates for themselves.

xXxXxXx

Ifan had succeeded. Alexander was dead, his contract was complete, and he was about to leave for Reaper's Coast. And yet, his victory seemed hollow. Lorelai had reminded him that he was nearly done with his mission. That meant Ifan would return to his life as a mercenary, receive another mission, and complete it. Without Lorelai at his side.

That thought did not feel right to him.

Ifan wanted to talk to Lorelai about it. He had no idea what he was planning to say to her, but he walked to her anyway. She had spun around and trotted back to Sebille and Fane after she had spoken to him, and now she was waving her arms dramatically.

"—to inspect which of our enemies have survived," she was telling them. "Could you check on the Seekers' progress in stealing a ship?"

"Indeed," Sebille said, "but I shall not be saving any of them from death if they are being annihilated."

Lorelai chuckled without any apparent disapproval and patted Sebille on the head. Sebille puffed a breath out of her nose and tossed Ifan an indiscernible glance. "Thank you, dear one," Lorelai said warmly, then made her way to the collapsed magisters. Ifan followed behind without speaking, and she did not seem to notice him.

"Messy, messy," Lorelai murmured. She rummaged through her ribcage and placed her mask on her face so that she shimmered into the pretty elf of flesh and blood. She pressed her fingers to the throat of each magister, inspecting them thoroughly, but she did not spare a glance for Alexander.

Only two seemed to have survived: that magister whom Lorelai had cooked alive and the one who had slipped on the ice. Lorelai summoned two telekinetic tendrils to move the magisters to the edge of the courtyard and leaned them upright against a wall. Lorelai carefully removed the woman's helmet, ignoring how her skin tore. The woman's flesh was drooping and distorted like the magister's in the prison, but parts of her cheekbone was also visible. Lorelai surveyed her dispassionately and did nothing more.

Lorelai moved to the man next and inspected him. He was unconscious but only lightly scorched; Lorelai regarded him for a moment, then snapped her fingers. Lorelai's familiar, Bunny, materialized at her side. Bunny gazed up at Lorelai and flicked out her tongue.

"…Somewhat," Lorelai said to her familiar, giving Bunny an affectionate pat on the head. She cast a small healing spell that restored Bunny's broken scales back to their sparkling green-brown glory, and Bunny hissed happily. "Would you mind crushing this man's legs so that he may never walk again?" Lorelai asked Bunny.

Ifan startled slightly, but Lorelai was still looking at the serpent. After a moment, she laughed.

"Yes, dear one, and I apologize," she said fondly. "He is not quite incapacitated enough for my tastes, but…" Lorelai hesitated, then sighed. "I suppose that I should not wish for his death," she said almost mournfully.

Startled by Lorelai's words, Ifan watched intently as Bunny seemed to nod. Lorelai lifted the man's legs for Bunny to slither forwards and wrap her body around them. It took only a few seconds for the sound of bones cracking and splitting to echo across the courtyard; the man woke up part of the way through and began to scream with abandon. Lorelai did not twitch, but Ifan winced just slightly.

"That is sufficient, Bunny," Lorelai said after another moment.

Bunny obediently released her grip on the man and gazed expectantly at Lorelai. The man was still sniveling and gasping from the pain, but Lorelai turned to smile at Ifan. She snapped her fingers so that Bunny disappeared, then she patted Ifan gently on the head. Her eyes widened with seemingly innocent wonder, and she began to tilt his head back and forth with her hand tangled into his hair. Ifan remained still, aware that she meant no harm, but his every instinct was telling him to shove her away.

"Even after all these years," Lorelai commented, "I have not mastered the control of my temper." She ruffled Ifan's hair again before lowering her hand, and Ifan looked at her curiously.

"What do you mean?" he prompted.

"I have a vengeful streak," Lorelai replied cheerfully. "Gracious, while Bunny was crushing that poor magister's legs, all I could think was 'Who is the Shrieker now?'" She took a deep breath and massaged her forehead.

"Understandable," Ifan rumbled. It would be difficult for anyone to forgive the magisters' cruelty.

Lorelai cast Ifan a thoughtful glance and nodded. "It is understandable," Lorelai agreed, "but I should not lose my temper for such a minor offence."

"So?" Ifan inquired. He crossed his arms and gazed up at her. "Why did you?"

"…Braccus Rex was horrific," Lorelai said after a pause. She looked over her shoulder at the unconscious magisters. "When he finally died," she said, "almost everyone agreed that he was evil, that his methods were evil, that his goals were evil." She blinked back to Ifan with a soft smile and sad eyes. "Why, Ifan, do people wish to reinstate the same practices they denounce as evil?" she appealed to him. "What is the purpose in crucifying and infecting innocents and turning others into mindless slaves to be killed senselessly? What gave these people the right to destroy my homelands and annihilate my people?" She shook her head and glanced to the magisters again. Her hands clenched and relaxed. "I want them to understand, even just the tiniest bit," she said calmly, "what pain feels like. What the pain they inflict feels like."

"I think that's normal, Lorelai," Ifan told her carefully, and she twisted to face him with her head tilted slightly to the side. He was unable to read her expression. She looked and sounded thoughtful even though her words were not so tranquil.

"Is it truly normal?" Lorelai asked him. "Perhaps it is…" She sighed and blinked at Ifan, her eyes wide with nothing but curiosity. Not much managed to unnerve Ifan anymore, but her utter lack of discernible emotion was starting to make his skin crawl. "Remember when I spoke of fear when we first met?" Lorelai asked. "At how one must fear one's own potential?"

Lorelai was gazing at him so intently that Ifan felt as though he were held in place, compelled to answer else never move again. He blinked to snap himself out of it and nodded briskly.

"I, Ifan, am far too powerful to hold vendettas," Lorelai told him gravely. "I can cause severe damage with vendettas and grudges. This is something that I fear."

Lorelai was being far too solemn for Ifan, but he did not know how to help. So, he just grinned and patted her roughly on the shoulder. "Lucky for you," Ifan said humorously, "you have me to keep you out of trouble."

As Ifan had hoped, a slow smile spread across Lorelai's face until she was grinning widely. "Ah, yes," she laughed, "you truly are such a positive role model." Her smile faded just slightly, and her eyes softened. "I appreciate that you are with me," she said in such a kind voice that Ifan's throat went dry. "Thank you for your words, and please do inform me if I am straying from the morals by which I stand. Please."

"Morals are the mercenary's best friend," Ifan snorted. "I'll do my best."

"Thank you, dear one."

Against Ifan's expectations, a surge of unbridled affection filled Lorelai's gaze, and she reached forwards to pull him into another hug. Ifan had not been expecting this one, so it took him a moment to reciprocate. Nearly at the same time, Lorelai pulled away but kept her arms draped across his shoulders. She gazed at him intently, then sighed out of her nose. Before Ifan could do a thing, she slid one hand into his hair and lowered her face towards him.

Ifan's mind turned blank.

Lorelai gently knocked Ifan's forehead against hers and sighed with contentment. Ifan was hyperaware of the contact and yet confused by the type. He had been certain Lorelai had been about to kiss him, and he was unsure how he felt about that. This here, this odd little touch of foreheads, was strange but far more of a relief—yet, also severely disappointing.

Lorelai remained there for no more than three seconds before she released him and stepped away, seeming unbothered. Ifan, on the other hand, could not even begin to calm his heart rate.


	21. Compromise

20\. Compromise

* * *

"Pleasure to meet you," Lorelai said with a bright smile. She gave the haughty elf in front of her a shallow bow with her hands clasped together. "My name is Lorelai."

"Ah, yes, the Undead," the woman mused with a pair of fingers tapping against her bottom lip partially covered by the mask she wore over the left half of her face. "I am Malady, here to save the day. Lovely mask you have there."

"Likewise," Lorelai echoed amicably. "Look at the two of us; so much in common already!"

"You're sweet," Malady replied dryly. She placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the carnage behind Lorelai and the others. "Shall we leave?"

"Not yet," Lorelai said. She turned to her other companions. "This is Sebille, Ifan, and Fane," she said.

Malady studied them with a dispassionate expression. "Why are we waiting?" Malady asked with a sigh as she turned back to Lorelai. "You have more business here?"

"Oh, I simply wished to introduce you to my other companions," Lorelai replied cheerfully. "We may leave now." She glanced at her friends. "Unless any of you have more business here?"

Ifan grinned with sharp teeth and patted his crossbow. "I'm done, I think."

"I was done ever since I spoke to Zaleskar many days ago," Sebille said lazily.

"I have nothing in particular to do in this place," Fane replied with one eyebrow raised at Lorelai, "but, really, we should start researching your Hall of Echoes sometime soon."

"Brilliant plan," Lorelai agreed with him. "Gracious, being a Godwoken is quite the troublesome existence."

"Yes, about that," Malady interjected with sudden interest. "Do you have a way to prove you're Godwoken?" Lorelai blinked at her, then smiled. She flicked a hand, casting Bless, the spell Amadia had given her, on Malady. Malady jumped backwards, surprise on her face, then grinned an utterly toothless smile. "Perfect," Malady said with what sounded like sincere happiness. "The Meistr is waiting for you in Driftwood. She will be able to help you further your abilities."

Lorelai grinned right back and spun to face Fane again. "I believe we have a place to begin our research," she said. She gave Sebille a pat on the head next and felt a warm glow when, once again, Sebille did not flinch back. "You must have changed my fate, dear one, when you rolled for it in the ship last week. For that, I thank you deeply."

Sebille inclined her head with a tiny smile, and Lorelai paused to give Ifan a quick caress on the cheek—she ignored his sharp inhale on surprise—before returning her attention to an impatient Malady.

Let us depart, then," Lorelai said.

Malady grinned again and led them to the small boat nearby, much to Lorelai's unhappiness. Malady seemed quite content rowing the boat by herself to the large ship drifting in the gentle waves just offshore. Once they arrived, Malady hooked the boat to ropes, and a pair of Seekers hoisted them upwards. At the sight of Lorelai, the Seekers' expressions soured, but they did nothing but shoot her distasteful glares and step away. Once on the Lady Vengeance, Malady strode towards the ship's wheel without another word, leaving Lorelai and the others to survey the corpses of magisters, Seekers, and sorcerers that littered the deck. It had clearly been a difficult battle to gain control of the ship.

"There's Gareth," Ifan said softly, pointing across the ship.

Lorelai headed towards Gareth, though Fane and Sebille did not follow. Fane already had his notebook out and was scribbling down in it as he frowned at the carnage, while Sebille was crouching down and poking at the corpses thoughtfully. Lorelai decided not to interrupt their respective research.

"Hello, Gareth!" Lorelai called out when she was in earshot. Gareth did not react, however, until Lorelai actually tapped him gently on the shoulder.

Gareth gasped and turned to her with a dazed expression on his face. "O-oh," he said when recognition flashed through his blank eyes. "Lorelai, Ifan," he murmured, his voice subdued and gaze mournful. "So many dead…" he sighed, staring at the fallen Seeker at his feet. "I knew these men and women for years on end. They died nobly, but it still…"

Lorelai ventured to place a hand on Gareth's shoulder and squeeze it lightly. "Death is not as bad as mortals make it out to be," she said in what she hoped was a comforting tone. "Though your friends are no longer in this realm, they have not disappeared. Their souls linger in the Hall of Echoes. It is a peaceful, beautiful place."

Gareth relaxed and gave Lorelai a grateful smile. "Thank you for your kind words," he replied. "It… puts my heart at ease. I shall tend to the dead, give them proper funerals. In the meantime, you ought to speak with Malady. We are having some difficulty getting the ship moving."

Lorelai nodded and moved away. Once she and Ifan were out of earshot, Ifan halted her with a hand on her wrist. "I thought you didn't remember being completely dead," he commented with puzzled eyes.

"You remembered that?" Lorelai asked quizzically, but her delight was marred by Ifan's solemn expression.

Lorelai puffed out a breath and nodded. "I have not the faintest idea if what I told Gareth is true," she stated casually, "but it is better than drowning in guilt and pity. Gareth is… not as resilient as I had first suspected."

"You think he couldn't handle it?" Ifan asked with a furrowed brow. "He is the leader of the Seekers. He seems strong enough."

"From what I have noticed," Lorelai replied, "Gareth is a sensitive soul. Perhaps more so than he ought to be. He clings to the words of this Lucian of his and seems to have little confidence in anything else. I worry what shall become of him if he has no certainty of the fate of his comrades."

"Shouldn't you let him decide that for himself?"

Lorelai bit her lip thoughtfully while she inspected his carefully guarded expression. "Perhaps," she admitted. "Do you think I ought to tell him the truth? If you believe so, then I trust your judgment implicitly."

Surprise flickered across Ifan's face and remained there. "I… er…" He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck as though uncomfortable. "It would be… a little late for that," he finally said. "Might be cruel to get his hopes up only to tear them down a few minutes later."

"I see," Lorelai mused. "Thank you for the suggestion, Ifan," she told him with a sincere smile. She bowed her head lightly and clasped her hands in front of her heart. "I asked you tell me if you believed I was departing from my own morals or conducting myself in an insensitive manner. You are already fulfilling that promise. Thank you."

"You… are welcome," Ifan replied, a smile twitching on his face. "Also, why did you tell me the truth?"

"Ifan," Lorelai said gravely, "I do not know the details of your life, but you have clearly suffered a… betrayal or a…" Lorelai waved her hand vaguely. "A jaded experience. Such a thing gives one a different, more cynical and understanding outlook on loss and death. Perhaps I am incorrect," she added hastily when Ifan's surprise only grew. "I apologize for any assumptions made."

"No, no," Ifan murmured. He looked away so that Lorelai could not see his face. "It's… fine."

"I know, however, that you are still compassionate." Lorelai continued before the mood could deteriorate. "Even if such a revelation may cause you internal distress, you can understand that it is more reason to care for those around you rather than a reason to lose hope."

Ifan had turned his face to her midway through her explanation and was studying her intently. He looked sad now, so Lorelai's smile widened in an attempt to make him feel better while she resisted the urge to caress his cheek again. She loved the feel of his beard on her hands but guessed she had already been too affectionate today.

"But enough of this serious talk," Lorelai dismissed when Ifan remained silent. "I suppose we ought to speak with Malady now and learn how to restore the ship's mobility—as much as I wish we could ignore ship travel entirely."

Ifan barked out a laugh and nodded. "One problem might be that it doesn't have any sails," he pointed out with his humor restored. "I'll ask around below. This deck is starting to smell as bad as it looks."

"Of course," Lorelai said. "We shall rendezvous later."

Ifan offered her a friendly salute and walked away, perhaps a little more quickly than was strictly necessary.

xXxXxXx

A Livewood ship.

According to Malady, the Lady Vengeance had been crafted from a Livewood tree, a tree that housed the soul of a departed elf. Dallis had ordered this atrocity for convenience's sake, to create a ship that she could control—the slave mark on the ship's figurehead was proof enough of that. Not only was this Divine Order emulating Braccus Rex, it was also integrating brand new forms of torture against sorcerers and nonhuman races. It made Lorelai ill.

Lorelai had accepted the task of learning how to reanimate the ship and was searching the decks for a hint of how to do so. So far, she had discovered a journal that outlined the method of infiltrating Dallis's personal chambers by saying the password to the magical gold doors guarding the room. Hopeful that she had found a lead at last, Lorelai made her way to the door.

"Fortitude," Lorelai informed the door when it asked for the password.

The door swung open without another word, and Lorelai cautiously stepped inside. The interior was gaudy, all the furniture gilded or sparkling with polish, but it was filled with books and jars holding what were likely intriguing experiments. From that cursory look, Lorelai could tell that it was lavish, comfortable… and occupied.

"Hello," Lorelai greeted a haggard-looking man fussing with something on the desk at which he was sitting.

"Pass me that copper wire, would you?" was the man's distracted reply. Always happy to help, Lorelai trotted towards him and passed him the necessary copper wire. "…There," the man mumbled after fiddling with his project for a moment longer. With a huff of satisfaction, he turned to Lorelai, then grinned. "An Undead as my savior?" he remarked. "Quaint."

"Why, thank you," Lorelai replied with a smile. "I assume you are a necromancer, then, since you can see past my lovely disguise." She gestured to herself, as she was still wearing her mask.

"I suppose both of us are rather perceptive, then," the man replied, and that was confirmation enough for Lorelai. He certainly looked the part, what with his dark hood, hunched posture, and sallow complexion. It was the eyes, though, that convinced Lorelai. Necromancers always had something dark in their eyes; they were people her meddled in matters that few others dared to.

Lorelai smiled. Necromancers were always as fascinating to her as she was to them. "My name is Lorelai," she said. "How about you?"

"Tarquin," he stated. "_Please_ tell me that Dallis no longer controls the ship."

"Dallis no longer controls the ship," Lorelai affirmed. "The Seekers and my friends liberated it."

Tarquin smirked and leaned back in his chair. "Good riddance," he said. "She was not a pleasure to work with."

"Yes, so I have gathered," Lorelai said with a soft laugh. "Why is it that you are in this cabin?"

"Dallis took a particular interest in me," Tarquin sighed. "I am quite valuable, apparently, though I did not help her of my own will, mind you. She used some sort of… mind domination device to do her bidding." He pushed up one of his sleeves to reveal a mottled, decaying arm. "Resistance was… not encouraged."

Lorelai winced in sympathy. "Do you require medical aid?" she inquired. "Healing?"

"It'll take more than some simple spells to fix this," Tarquin said, pushing down his sleeve. "I'll handle it."

"Well, I am glad to have helped you," Lorelai said graciously. She swept an arm towards the door. "Feel free to leave if you so please."

"Hm, some fresh air might be nice after so long," Tarquin mused, then nodded. He stood from his chair, grabbed a gauntlet—what he had apparently been tinkering with—and gave Lorelai a swift bow. "A pleasure," he stated far more politely than Lorelai would have expected.

"Likewise."

After Tarquin left the cabin, Lorelai scoured the place, eager to find whatever trigger awakened the ship, but it held no obvious clues. Disheartened and frustrated, Lorelai decided to take a break to simply wander the ship. Tarquin could be interesting to speak to, but she felt too unhappy to initiate conversation with an enigmatic stranger.

Lorelai decided to raise her mood by running her hands across the ship's wood. She was enraptured by the rough texture that was intermittently interrupted by a perfectly smooth patch of varnish. She could not get enough of touch, how it tingled against her skin, the skin she barely remembered having, and she wanted more. She always wanted more. She wished, however, that she could explore the textures of the world in peace. It was difficult to concentrate with all the dirty looks.

Now that everyone knew her Undead status, the ship had split into a trio of factions towards her. Much of the crew and passengers avoided her out of fear, disgust, and hatred. That was only to be expected. Unexpectedly, many seemed uncomfortable, but they tried valiantly to hide it and to treat Lorelai normally. Those unaffected by Lorelai were in the minority, but they fiercely defended her presence against those who wanted her dead or gone.

Oddly enough, not a single child seemed to dislike her. They were mostly nervous, but at least three of them had come up to her over the last few hours and asked to feel her bones. Lorelai had cheerfully obliged, and they had poked at her curiously until they were comfortable enough to begin firing rapid questions at her. When they had left, they were grinning and excitedly telling their friends about the experience. That had inspired an entire gaggle of the little humans to surround her, boisterously chatting with her until a horrified mother had shooed them all away from the scary Undead.

Lorelai chuckled at the reminder of the righteous indignation of the children as they were herded away from her, but her smile faded as she suddenly felt morose, lonely. Ifan had rushed away, Sebille was nowhere to be found, and there was little for her to do here. She paused at the bottom of the stairwell she had been descending and realized she had no particular destination in mind. As she surveyed the open space, she spotted Fane sitting alone on the floor, scribbling in his notebook. Otherwise, the place seemed sparsely populated.

Hit with a thought, Lorelai approached Fane and crouched down in front of him. She waited for him to notice her and, when he did, he gasped in surprise.

"Gah, you seem to have the insufferable habit of sneaking up on me," Fane huffed. "Now, what is it that you want?" He looked up at her from under his hood and waited for her to speak.

Lorelai narrowed her eyes at him, inspecting him closely as she considered her options. She gnawed on her lip in thought, and the small burst of sensation made the decision for her.

"Are you still curious about our mating rituals?" Lorelai inquired calmly.

Fane instantly straightened, his entire countenance brightening. "Absolutely!" he effused. "By all means, let us proceed!"

Fane jumped to his feet, and Lorelai snickered at his scholarly enthusiasm. "Put on your mask," she told him as she stood as well.

"Oh?" Fane inquired confusedly. "Why is that? Are you bothered by bone? That seems quite… hypocritical."

"Not in the least," Lorelai laughed. "Unfortunately, bone has no nerves. This will be rather boring without the sense of touch."

"Really? Well, I am still curious of the mechanics of—"

Lorelai interrupted him with a stern snap of her fingers. "Mask. On."

"Er…" Fane shuffled his feet, seeming taken aback by her strict tone, before snatching his mask from his bag and fitting it over his face. His body shimmered in a familiar golden light, then transformed into flesh and blood. He tossed his hood back to reveal a rather handsome young man.

Lorelai nodded in satisfaction and gestured with two fingers that he follow her. She hummed to herself in anticipation and led the impatient Fane to the golden doors of Dallis's chambers. She slipped inside, waited for Fane to join her, and shut the door.

"Fortitude," Lorelai ordered, and the door obediently locked itself.

"Why all this effort?" Fane inquired.

"Privacy and a bed," Lorelai answered.

"Those are important factors?" Fane asked, and Lorelai heard him reach for his notebook.

"Yes, Fane," she replied indulgently.

"And why does it matter if—"

"Fane, do shut up," Lorelai sighed as she reached Dallis's canopy bed. Fane stopped speaking, and Lorelai grinned at the slightly offended expression on his face. "You are not allowed to analyze anything until we are done," she told him firmly.

Fane furrowed his brows. "Why is—"

"Fane," she interrupted in a tone laced with warning. Fane huffed but nodded. "Good," she stated. Lorelai quelled her nervousness as Fane gazed at her expectantly, clearly intending she take the lead. "One last piece of advice," she said as she took him by the hand. "Follow your instincts."

Fane looked like he wanted to ask her a dozen questions on the subject, but he pressed his lips together and only nodded.

"Brilliant," Lorelai said cheerfully. She grinned at him and leaned her head forward until their foreheads were touching. Fane blinked curiously at her. "Let us begin."

xXx

Fane had scrambled for his notebook the moment he caught his breath. He mumbled aloud while he wrote, glancing intermittently at Lorelai, who was watching him with a smirk.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Fane asked distractedly.

"You seemed to enjoy yourself rather thoroughly," she said with a touch of smugness.

Fane put down his pen and gazed at her thoughtfully. "It was… an intriguing experience that I did objectively enjoy," he said. "I must confess, though, that most of the sources on the subject described it as a transcendental sensation, greater than any other. They may have idealized it."

Lorelai laughed. "I am rather out of practice," she admitted. "Having no touch rather defeats the purpose of sex."

"This may have been your first experience, then?" Fane questioned disbelievingly. "That seems unlikely."

"I did have a daughter," she reminded him with a wry grin, "so I doubt this was my first experience."

Fane stared at her uncomprehendingly, then gasped, instantly straightening. "Divines, this is how you all make children," he remembered. "Does this mean—"

Lorelai burst out laughing at the pure terror in his face. "The Undead," she gasped out, "cannot have children, Fane. Do not drive your poor self into a tizzy."

Fane's entire body relaxed, and he stretched a hand to retrieve his notebook from where it had fallen off the bed. "That would have been a shock," he muttered. He turned to inspect her again. "Would you like to try again," he asked, "now that your memory is refreshed?"

"I would be delighted," Lorelai said, eagerly anticipating the pure sensation again. She sat up and pulled herself onto Fane's lap as he hurriedly placed his notebook on the nightstand. She grinned and lifted a hand, allowing a small line of electricity to spark between two fingers. "This time, I have some more ideas…"


	22. A Shared Fascination

_:D_

* * *

21\. A Shared Fascination

* * *

Fane did not know why she was still here. In all honesty, Fane did not know why _he_ was still here. The experiment was over, he had completed his notes on the subject, and he could be busy with other tasks instead of sitting here quietly with the Undead elf beside him.

She had unmasked herself almost immediately and leaned against the back of the bed. When Fane had asked her why she had bothered unmasking, her response had been curious:

She had laughed, as she often did, and looked at him. "One might say I do not feel comfortable in my own skin," she had said. Fane had been mulling that over when the Undead laughed again. "How solemn you look!" she had cried. "I was only joking."

Fane had rolled his eyes, which inspired her to pat him on the arm rather condescendingly.

"In truth," she said more seriously, "I simply dislike being masked or even veiled. The wonders of touch encourage me to wear this mask, but I have no desire to hide my true self. If I do not have the overwhelming urge to feel and am among people who will not kill me on sight, I prefer to be exactly as I am. I rather enjoy being an Undead and showing off my pretty decorations."

"So," Fane had summarized, "you have a strong sense of self which is largely tied to your appearance."

"Fane, Fane, Fane," the Undead had sighed with exaggerated despair. "You are so eager to judge us lesser races with unnecessary criticism that it clouds your otherwise sound reasoning skills." The Undead had next shrugged. "Your conclusion is the opposite of the truth," she informed him. "My appearance is of the least consequence to me, as it is one of the very few things on which I am willing to compromise."

They had both fallen silent after that, and Fane was still thinking over her words. The idea of uncompromising belief was strange to him. In his experience, everything except the laws of the universe was mutable. He had once thought that the Eternals were as their name implied, but even they had changed, had fallen. His mind told him that the Undead was falsely confident in her own steadfastness, but his instincts disagreed.

Fane was unused to listening to instinct, but he had to admit it had served him well just a short time ago. The Undead's and his second attempt had been far more successful than the first, and Fane was beginning to understand the mortals' obsession with the act. He himself was tempted to solicit the Undead once more, but he did not need any more information now. It had been a welcome distraction from this mundane ship ride, however, and he was glad that the Undead had approached him.

Fane wondered if he should leave now, but he was comfortable. He was relaxed.

"Tell me," Fane began to the Undead, deciding he might as well learn about her kind while he was here, "why do you adorn yourself so? Is it cultural? Ritualistic?"

"What, the tattoos?" the Undead inquired. Fane nodded, and the Undead glanced down at her bare ribs. She raised a hand and aimlessly traced a looping swirl of golden-yellow ink. "Somewhat," she said softly. "They…" She hesitated.

While she formulated an answer, Fane studied the ink all across her bones. At first glance, they seemed like abstract lines and patterns of different colors but, at closer inspection, Fane could see that the lines formed concrete symbols, often curling around miniscule images. The designs on her skull were the easiest to discern, as they were the largest. There was a pale silver crescent moon bordering one of her eye sockets, a bright yellow snake following her cheekbone, and various plants and other images decorating the rest of it.

"They are personal," the Undead finally said. She tipped her head back and rested it against the tall headboard.

"Then I apologize for prying," Fane said. He was disappointed that his curiosity would not be satisfied, but it was not his place to force an explanation.

"Hm?" the Undead said, now staring at him with her head tilted curiously. "Oh!" she gasped. "No, not like that," she assured him. "I mean that they were a personal decision having nothing to do with a culture or affiliation with some group."

Fane looked at her intently, hoping for more, and she folded her hands in her lap.

"I forget many things across the centuries," she said, "so retaining the memories I make is important to me. Thus, almost every tattoo represents a significant event in my existence."

"Ah, sentiment," Fane understood. He began noting some of this down in his book.

"Sentiment," the Undead agreed, "but also practicality and instruction."

Fane paused in his writing to look at her again. "Can you expand on that?" he asked.

"It is practical in that I am keeping a record of my life's events," she responded. "It is something of a… visual biography, perhaps. It is instruction in that not all the memories are good; some are reminders of mistakes I ought not repeat." The Undead paused as she watched Fane take notes. "How do you write your name in your native script?" she asked unexpectedly.

Fane stared at her in shock, wondering what had inspired the question, but quickly jotted down the letters for her. She leaned over to study it, then hummed to herself. As Fane watched, the Undead retrieved her pack from the floor and scrounged through it until she produced an inked quill, a scrap of paper, and a small jar of white ink. The Undead studied Fane's name for a moment longer before carefully copying it onto the paper with her pen. She held it up for Fane to see.

"Did I copy it correctly?" she asked gravely, and Fane nodded. She hummed in satisfaction and carefully unscrewed the jar of white ink. She dipped her right index finger into the jar and began inspecting her left arm. "Aha," she mumbled as her gaze alighted on a small area of bone devoid of color.

Fane had noticed that both of the Undead's index fingers had been filed down to wickedly sharp points, but he had only seen her utilize the modification for lockpicking. Now, she pressed the inked point deep into the bone. She carefully ground furrows into the bone, reapplying ink frequently until the bone sparkled with her newest tattoo: a tiny inscription of Fane's name in Eternal script.

The Undead inspected her work carefully, deepening furrows or adding extra ink as needed. Once she was satisfied, she wiped her finger with the scrap of paper and returned everything to her bag.

"I am always recording new memories," she said cheerfully. "I believe this qualifies, yes?"

"Fascinating," Fane murmured as he scribbled this newest development down. "You are a fascinating creature," he added offhand.

"You are not the only one to have said that to me," the Undead said dryly, and Fane glanced up at her to see her staring into the distance.

"I meant no offense," he said hurriedly.

"And I took no offense," she replied with a chuckle. "I have been captured and studied by dozens of necromancers over the years," she revealed. "I am quite used to being fascinating to you scholars."

"I have found that most of you mortal races dislike being studied," Fane admitted. "I have recorded some… interesting reactions from those who took offense."

"It is generally considered impolite, but I understand curiosity," the Undead said. "I am always glad to help satisfy it. As long as you do not attempt to cause harm, I have no issue."

"I have no intention of causing anyone harm," Fane said, "only to observe."

"Yes, I know," she replied. "That is why I am glad to cooperate. Now, however, you must tell _me_ something. Why do you consider me fascinating? Every necromancer had a different reason, and I am curious as to what yours is."

"You seem to understand mortals very well," he began briskly, "even though you claim to have lived in isolation for centuries and to be unpracticed socially."

The Undead nodded but did not say anything, waiting for more.

"Even though you seem enamored with touch," he continued, "you profess that you enjoy being Undead."

She silently nodded again, so Fane flipped through his notebook to remind himself what else he had found curious about her.

"You give trust without reservation even though very few will ever return the favor," he said; another nod was the response. "You never take offense even at the most personal of attacks and are willing to make peace with those whom you should disdain. Your morals are strict and yet contradictory. You do not revere your gods as others do, even going so far as refusing to accept the gift of nearly infinite power."

The Undead chuckled at that one but still did not speak.

"Hmm, what else…" Fane murmured as he flipped through his notebook. He was surprised at just how many insights on the Undead he had scattered through his observations. "You do not seem to need a goal to strive for at all times," he added. "That is unusual. You seem perfectly content without a permanent home or social ties, yet you have a deep affection for some mortals…" Fane sighed and looked up from his notebook. "Do you require more reasons?" he asked dryly.

"Summarize it all in one sentence," the Undead said softly.

"…You are always the outlier," Fane decided after a moment of silence.

"Hm, fascinating," the Undead mused. "No one ever has the same answer."

"Do you mind if I inquire as to what the others' conclusions were?"

"Dominik said I was fascinating because the dead were not supposed to be made of sunshine." She chuckled while Fane stared in bafflement. "He was a poetic sap," she explained. "Do not mind him. The others…" The Undead trailed off and began inspecting her bones closely. Eventually, she gasped and grabbed her right foot, tilting it so that she could see the bottom. "Here they are," she murmured.

The Undead chuckled lightly as she read the minuscule script, and it took Fane a moment to realize that she had transcribed the answers. He quickly scribbled this down into his notebook; he supposed this is what the Undead meant by recording her own history.

"Some of the reasons given were: because my bone is malleable under certain induced conditions," the Undead said, "another because I have little attachment to my mortal life, because I claimed to double as a woodwind instrument, I had shockingly human-like mannerisms, I enjoyed being Undead, my favorite color—at the time—was blue, I did not kill my necromancer, I preferred the company of animals, I am healed by poison, I have a familiar, dogs shy away from gnawing on my bones…" She squinted at her foot, then shrugged at Fane. "I am sure there were many others," she said, "but I have not recorded every reason."

Fane gazed at her, trying to determine whether she was being facetious, but she did not laugh or break eye contact. "Those are… truly the reasons?" he asked cautiously.

"Indeed," the Undead said with a chuckle. "I asked each one to summarize why they thought me fascinating, intriguing, interesting, and the like, and those were their answers."

"They are all so… shallow," Fane observed unhappily, "except for the first one. That one is simply odd."

This time, the Undead did laugh. "It is fascinating to me to relate the person to their fascination," she said cheerfully. "The shallow answers originated from necromancers who treated me as an experiment, a thing. They viewed me through a shallow lens, and so their conclusions were likewise. Dominik was… well, he idealized me, and so his answer…" The Undead snickered and waved a hand. "You heard that drivel. _You_, however, are likely the most open-minded. Therefore, your analysis is perhaps the most accurate, but I can hardly be certain. I do not find myself particularly fascinating, so I have no personal answer to the question."

Fane barely prevented himself from murmuring, "Fascinating," again, but he still transcribed the basics of the Undead's explanations into his notebook.

"You know," the Undead said thoughtfully, "you rather remind me of Dominik."

The words took a moment to register in Fane's mind but, when they did, he stopped writing. "The… _sunshine_… one?" he blubbered. "I do hope you are joking."

The Undead burst into laughter and pressed both hands over her eye sockets. "Y-yes," she managed to choke out. "I mean, no. I am not joking, but I am n-not implying that…" She giggled fiercely, and Fane huffed out a sigh. "I meant that… during the little time that Dominik was _not_ staring at me in abject infatuation… he acted very similarly to you."

"To _me_?" Fane repeated, slightly offended. "A mortal? Similar to me? Who _is_ this Dominik you keep mentioning?"

"Dominik was the human who reanimated this," the Undead stated, gesturing to herself.

"The necromancer who created you?" Fane inquired, interested again. Insights on the necromancer could help him explain the irregularities in the Undead's personality. "Please, go on."

"One thing that I would first like to mention," the Undead stated, "is that Dominik did not 'create' me. He seared the flesh from my corpse, reanimated my charred bones, and strapped me to a table for civilized conversation, but my personality, my _self_ is my own."

Fane eagerly prepared to write, realizing he may have discovered a sensitive topic at last.

"Oh, do not look at me like that," the Undead said airily. "This is what I mean. Dominik used to give me that exact same look when he thought I said something just deliciously curious. If I may hazard a guess, you believe that you have hit upon a skeletal nerve at the mention of my so-called creation, am I correct?"

Fane slowly put down his pen, unwilling to admit the accuracy of her words. He gazed intently at the Undead, who pointed at him languidly.

"See, Dominik was always trying to find my nerves, no matter how much I reminded him that I had none."

"And did he?" Fane inquired, ready to jot down notes again.

The Undead laughed warmly. "He did indeed," she revealed, and Fane felt a flash of anticipation. "You, I am afraid, must go through the same decades of obsession if you would like to do the same."

Fane gave the Undead a withering glare. "Does this amuse you?" he snapped.

"It bloody does," the Undead laughed. "I personally have no issue with being considered a creation," she explained more seriously. "I do not consider myself a creation, but it is only semantics. Dominik, however, grew adorably offended if I ever credited him for anything beyond the symbolic breath of life."

"I still do not see the similarities between us," Fane said, deciding to wrangle back control of the conversation.

"You are infatuated by semantics, Fane, just as Dominik was," the Undead explained with a note of amusement in her voice. "Logic. Exact definitions, the mechanics behind every facet of existence, the details in every image you see. Dominik carried a notebook around just like you do. He would scribble in that book, then squint at me when he thought I was not looking—just like you do. He would take every sentence as an opportunity to make an inquiry and would often grow so frustrated that he would throw an inkwell at my head. 'At least you cannot evade ink as well as you can questions,' he would tell me."

"It sounds as though you and your necromancer were on amicable terms," Fane commented.

"Yes, we were," the Undead said nonchalantly. "We got along much better when he decided to take my advice to stop trapping himself in his own logical mind. I taught him to embrace emotions, to use his instincts, and he would describe to me how it felt to bask in the warmth of the sun."

Fane again recalled how the Undead had told him to do the same earlier, to stop analyzing, and he wondered at the significance. He frowned as he jotted down his notes, somehow even more curious than he had been before. While he wrote, he caught sight of the Undead adding another tiny tattoo on the bottom of her foot. Fane wondered if he should be flattered to have inspired two tattoos, but he did not ask.

"I have existed for four millennia, Fane," Lorelai suddenly said in a quiet, firm tone, serious enough that Fane lifted his head to gaze at her expectantly. "My strongest and best memories are of Dominik, a human with whom I spent five decades. Do you understand why that is?"

Fane squinted at her, wondering at the significance of her question. After a few moments of silent musing, Fane sighed. "What is the point of guessing?" he inquired.

The Undead said nothing, only watching him with her head tilted to the side.

"Perhaps because he gave you so much personal attention?" Fane postulated, deciding to bother playing her little game. "Because he was the first person you remember? Because he raised you from the dead? Because he cared for you?"

The Undead sighed as though disappointed and shook her head. "Because he understood the power of transience, Fane, then of nothingness," she said. "Very few people, even those obsessed with it, understand the power of transience, and even fewer of nothingness."

Baffled, Fane watched her stand and balance on one foot to avoid smearing her newest tattoo. He waited for her to expand upon her answer, but she only hummed a soft tune as she threw her cloak over her bones.

"If I wish, may I solicit you again sometime?" she inquired distractedly as she buttoned her cloak.

Fane blinked, then looked back to his notebook. "…I suppose," he said.

"Oh, but before I leave…" the Undead added, spinning to face Fane once more. "I caught sight of some of your notes, and I do wish you would refer to me by name rather than 'the Undead.' If you meet more Undead, it will become rather confusing."

Before Fane could react, the Undead tapped forwards and snatched his pen. She scrawled her name underneath where Fane had written his, then nodded once.

"That is how you spell it, for future reference," Lorelai stated. She gave him a cheery wave and trotted out of the room.

Fane decided to add a few more observations to his notebook before he followed suit. This had been a far more valuable experience than he had anticipated.


	23. A Kitten, an Abomination, and Two Puppie

22\. A Kitten, an Abomination, and Two Puppies

* * *

It felt strange, walking around without Lorelai at his side, and Ifan suddenly realized that he had not left her company once over the last two weeks. It was also unsettling to remember that they had known each other for only two weeks. Ifan supposed that the amount of time they spent together, essentially living together for so many days, forged a bond even within such a short time. They had been forced to depend on each other, to save one another from death, to keep secrets for each other, and to help each other fulfill important goals. Such events fostered trust.

Ifan had not trusted anyone in many years, not truly. Since Lucian, he had not forged a bond he could not break at a moment's notice. A fortnight, of course, could not engender the same kind of trust Ifan had had in Lucian, but parting ways with Lorelai still put a sour taste in Ifan's mouth, especially after the other day's battle.

Lorelai's physical affection was growing more intense, but it seemed more like a familial type—a mother hen, as she had put it earlier—while Ifan felt a different kind of attraction. He did not, of course, feel such a thing for her skeletal form, but nor was she as affectionate in that form. It was the pretty elf with the curly hair and caramel skin that constantly put him off-balance. Lorelai's personality was attractive to him as well, but he would have been perfectly content as friends if not for an interest in the physical. Yet, the elf was not even her true physical form. Also, she was four thousand years old. And dead. Undead.

In short, Ifan was confused.

Ifan had decided to do some thinking while helping determine how to make the ship move, but he was getting nowhere in either task. He had come to no definitive conclusions about his feelings, and the fact that this ship was carved from an ancient Livewood tree was infuriating enough that Ifan could hardly concentrate on his investigation. Ifan knew about Livewood; his adopted parents had taught him. The thought of the home of an elven soul being disfigured and branded to follow the whim of a magister was disgusting.

Thus, Ifan was already in a bad mood when a loud conversation from the other side of the third sub-deck drew his attention. He wandered over, his hands in his pockets, and was met with a prison cell occupied by a woman and someone on a bed. The woman was yelling her name and rank to drown out the questions and insults from the guard.

"You and your beloved Divine ain't getting no mercy from the Seekers," the guard growled. "The sooner you talk, the better it'll be for both of you."

The woman inside the cell glowered and took a breath to begin reciting again.

Ifan hurried to the cage and peered through the bars. Sure enough, the body of Divine Alexander was lying prone on the bed. Ifan saw his chest rise and fall. He was still alive.

"He was dead," Ifan said in disbelief. "I saw the bolt go through his heart."

"You'll have to try better than that to kill our Divine!" the magister in the cage snapped back, her eyes blazing with fury. "You rebels will never succeed!"

"Oh, bugger off," the guard retorted. She looked to Ifan. "We all thought he was dead," she explained, "but someone checked him just before we left. The bastard was breathing, so we decided to bring him aboard as our captive."

Ifan curled his fingers into a fist but forced his voice to be amicable. "Mind if I go in there for bit?" he asked.

"Er, I'm not supposed to let anyone in…" the guard replied hesitantly, shuffling her feet.

"I'd like to see where my shot went wrong," Ifan explained in a carefully calm voice.

The guard bit her lip and looked him up and down before giving him a nod. She scrounged through her pocket and retrieved a rusty key. "One moment," she said. "I'll unlock it for ya."

The guard cast Ifan a nervous glance as she slipped the key into the lock and turned it, but Ifan could not fathom why. Only after she opened the door and beckoned that he enter the cell did Ifan realize his lips were curled into a snarl. He must have looked positively feral.

"Thank you," Ifan said. He offered the guard a smile and an exaggerated bow before he entered the cell. The guard relaxed, her expression put at ease, and closed the cell door behind him.

"W-wait," the magister said as Ifan stalked towards Alexander's unconscious body. She grabbed his arm in an attempt to halt his progress, but the growl he sent her had her skittering back to the opposite corner of the cell.

When Ifan made it to the bed, he halted. He gazed down at Alexander. The man looked so peaceful lying there, as though he had not a care in the world. This man, the one who tormented sorcerers, who imprisoned even children, who turned people into Silent Monks, who ordered crucifixions for his own protection, who committed so many atrocities, did not deserve to be at peace.

The man who would know why the elves had been massacred did not deserve to be at peace.

Hit with a surge of rage so intense that it overwhelmed any other senses he had, Ifan punched Alexander hard in the face.

"Why didn't you give the elves a chance to escape?" he roared. "Why did the Order trigger the Deathfog early?"

Alexander did not stir. His face was as peaceful as ever, barring a quickly forming bruise on the side of his jaw.

"Wake up!" Ifan ordered, furiously, this time punching the man on the cheek.

Alexander's lip split and began to bleed, but he still did not stir.

"Answer me, you bastard!" Ifan yelled, pummeling Alexander with desperate abandon.

Alexander's face snapped back and forth, but not even the rhythm of his breath changed.

"I believe someone once said that dead men tell no tales," a voice said coolly from behind him. Ifan paused, regaining his mind, and slowly lowered his hand.

Ifan closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, only turning around when his heart rate slowed to a reasonable pace.

A smirking elf was standing just outside the cell. She had a tight grip on the guard's arm as though preventing her from interrupting Ifan. "It seems you are not so good a mercenary as you pretend to be, kitten," Sebille continued. "What is more important, hm? Completing the contract, or getting your precious information?"

Ifan bared his teeth at her, but she only chuckled. Ifan ignored the softly crying magister in the corner as he stalked out of the cell, just barely keeping himself from slamming the metal door behind him. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at Sebille. After a moment, she released the guard's arm and stepped away. The guard gave both Ifan and Sebille a withering glare but did not speak.

"Personally," Sebille drawled, "I would choose revenge over information."

"You'd rather have questions forever than hold a grudge?" Ifan replied.

"Oh, many people know the answer to a single question," Sebille dismissed. "Only one person is the object of the grudge." She shrugged languidly and turned away from Ifan. "I notice that you are rather… guilt-ridden by the Deathfog calamity," Sebille commented as she walked.

Ifan winced but followed her resignedly. "Perhaps," he said.

"Yes. Perhaps," Sebille mused. "Perhaps you played a direct role in it? Perhaps you are hiding some pertinent information? Perhaps you cannot ruin our sweet Lorelai's loving opinion of you by revealing this role or information?"

Ifan glanced at Sebille warily, and she offered him a crafty smile.

"Worry not, kitten," she assured him. "I care little for your mistakes. I shan't speak a word."

Ifan nodded, internally relieved.

"However," Sebille added in a tone as cutting as a honed dagger, "our mutual friend seemed quite distraught over the Deathfog news." Sebille eyed Ifan out of the corner of her eye. "I admit that I have grown fond of Lorelai, and I do not appreciate anyone who would cause her harm—physical or mental. Do tread carefully."

With that, Sebille squeezed Ifan's shoulder in a tight grip before slinking away. Ifan halted and sighed. Forging bonds was far more inconvenient than keeping himself distant.

xXxXxXx

"Oh, it's you," the Seeker standing near the ship's figurehead growled, "the abomination."

Lorelai was wearing her mask, so she smiled warmly at the glaring Seeker. "You know," she commented, "you remind me of the magisters. Many have said the same thing about me being a sorcerer."

The Seeker recoiled as though struck. "It's not the same!" she cried defensively. "I'm nothing like a _magister_."

"I wish I possessed your conviction," Lorelai replied diplomatically. She gave the wide-eyed Seeker a shallow bow and approached the figurehead.

"Be… careful," the Seeker muttered. Lorelai turned in surprise to see the Seeker looking down at her feet, a chastised expression in her face. "It burns people if they touch it."

Lorelai blinked, dumbfounded by the Seeker's change, then gave the woman a brilliant grin. "I truly appreciate your concern for my well-being," Lorelai said.

The Seeker gave Lorelai a stiff nod, lingered awkwardly for a moment, then walked away briskly. Lorelai sighed with delight, aware that she had likely inspired someone to challenge preconceived beliefs about the Undead. Lorelai only hoped she could replicate this incident with others.

After another moment of basking in her success, Lorelai returned to the task at hand: waking the ship. She and Fane had searched the ship and found a songbook in Dallis's room that was written in Lizard Tongue. Since the ship had a lizard slave mark, it made sense to Lorelai that lizard commands would wake it. If not, then they were no worse off than before.

Lorelai took a deep breath and sang the words, carefully pronouncing each syllable. When she fell silent, there was a heartrending moment of stillness. Lorelai slumped resignedly, then the figurehead began to twitch. Soon, the wooden head of a dragon twisted its neck to face her.

"You are not Dallis," the figurehead observed in the melodic voice of a woman. She was suspicious, nearly hostile, so Lorelai gave her a small bow.

"No," Lorelai murmured. "We—a group of Seekers and sorcerers—have taken control of this vessel."

"Ah, a new master to serve," the figurehead said bitterly.

"If anyone attempts to order you as though you were a slave," Lorelai growled savagely, "then I shall personally eviscerate them. You are my proud kinsman, my sister, and I shall never allow you to suffer under a master again."

The figurehead was silent as she stared at Lorelai. "…You honor me, my sister," the figurehead eventually spoke, "but I am hardly your kinsman anymore. I am nothing but this… thing. This abomination."

"Never call yourself that," Lorelai said firmly, this time in Elven. "Never allow others to degrade you in such a manner either." Lorelai gently peeled the mask from her face and allowed her body to return to its natural state. The figurehead tilted her head in surprise. "You are no less a true elf than I," Lorelai said. "Our bodies may be different, but our souls are elven."

The figurehead studied Lorelai, then dipped her head. "Indeed," she murmured in the same language. "I thank you, my sister."

"There is no need," Lorelai replied. "My name is Lorelai. Who are you?"

"I have long since forgotten what I was called," the figurehead admitted. "You may call me the Lady Vengeance if you please, for that is who I am."

"I see you, Lady Vengeance," Lorelai said gravely.

"I see you, Lorelai," the Lady Vengeance replied. There was a companionable silence until the Lady Vengeance turned to look back out into the sea. "I shall take you wherever you wish to go," she said. "All I ask is that you do not let Dallis control me again."

"I promise," Lorelai said, "and I thank you."

"There is no need. Now, where is your destination?"

"Would you mind taking us to the Reaper's Coast?"

"It would be my pleasure."

Lorelai offered her thanks one more time, and the deck of the Lady Vengeance shuddered before the entire ship began to move. The Lady Vengeance seemed to be concentrating on her task now, so Lorelai left her. She returned to the hull where Malady was surveying the ship with a smile.

"I see you have succeeded," Malady said when Lorelai joined her. "Excellent."

"I asked the Lady Vengeance to take us to the Reaper's Coast," Lorelai said. "That is where everything to do is, yes?"

"Mm, yes," Malady said. "The Meistr will be waiting."

"Will this Meistr help us return to the Hall of Echoes?" Lorelai inquired.

"Probably," Malady replied airily. "How else are you to meet your god again?"

Lorelai huffed. "I have very little desire to do so, but it seems necessary."

"Not very pious, are we?" Malady said derisively.

"No, not very," Lorelai agreed. "There is no divine of the Undead, after all. Everyone else seems to have one."

Malady laughed. "Very true, little pup," she said.

"'Little pup?'" Lorelai echoed thoughtfully. "Quite adorable, I must admit. I have been called 'kitten' and various other terms of endearment, but I do like yours."

Malady tapped her chin, an enigmatic smile on her face. "Cute," she stated dryly. "It is quite difficult to believe that _you_ are the Godwoken."

"If you would prefer Alexander…?"

"Ugh. No. Run off now, little pup."

"I do enjoy being the lesser of two miseries," Lorelai sighed exaggeratedly. "Until we meet again. Which should be soon, since we are stuck on a ship together."

"Thank you for reminding me," Malady said.

Lorelai still could not discern if Malady was amused or irritated, but she supposed it did not matter. She gave Malady a quick bow and made her way to the hatch that led to the first sub-deck. She trotted down the stairs and peered into the deck. She quickly spotted Sebille hovering restlessly within the nearby shadows, so Lorelai gave the elf a wave.

Sebille smiled and slipped to Lorelai's side. "I see you have inspired the ship to move," Sebille commented.

"Yes…" Lorelai hummed thoughtfully. "I am glad we took this ship, as the soul of the dear elf was bound in slavery to Dallis. Hopefully, we shall prevent the Lady Vengeance from suffering thus ever again."

"Very good, darling," Sebille said. "Are we headed to the Reaper's Coast?"

"Indeed we are," Lorelai said in satisfaction. "You and Ifan are set to meet Roost, I ought to meet this Meistr, and Fane shall visit the Blackpits."

"So much to do," Sebille complained. "Darling, I do believe you have picked up too many strays."

"There is no such thing," Lorelai disagreed with a laugh. "I am, however, uncommonly attached to you and Ifan. I have even warmed to Fane. He is rather intriguing."

"Yes, you have displayed your unbridled affection an excessive number of times over the past week," Sebille replied dryly.

Lorelai smiled internally and patted Sebille on the head. Sebille did not flinch, and Lorelai's nonexistent heart filled with prideful joy. She patted Sebille once more on the head. Sebille raised her eyebrow at Lorelai but did not comment.

"Speaking of Ifan and Fane," Lorelai said, "have you seen them?"

"Oh, I did see the puppy," Sebille purred with an enigmatic smirk. "He was belowdecks…" Sebille glanced at Lorelai out of the corner of her eye. "With Alexander," she said.

Lorelai nodded thoughtfully as she headed towards the next stairwell down. "Yes, I did notice he was alive," Lorelai murmured.

"Oh, really?"

"It was strange," Lorelai continued, "as I _did_ see Alexander get hit with what should have been a killing blow, yet he survived. I did not sense any magical shield or the like that could have impeded the shot. Thus, it could have been dumb luck, or…"

"Something suspicious happened," Sebille finished for her. "Is that why you did not mention a thing to Ifan or me?"

Lorelai nodded distractedly while she tapped her bony fingers against the railing of the staircase. She felt the reverberations, but not the details of the texture; she could not decide whether it was comforting or disappointing. She missed touch, but it was still stressful and unfamiliar.

"Alexander may know about the strange things happening," Lorelai said. "He may not. He can always be killed—permanently, I mean. There is no harm in letting him remain alive for now."

"Will you tell Ifan that you knew Alexander was alive after the battle?" Sebille asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Yes, absolutely," Lorelai replied. "I do not wish to hide things from Ifan."

Sebille smiled thinly. "Do you think he feels the same?"

Lorelai shrugged with a nonchalance that she did not feel. "I think he does, yes," she said, "but I would not blame him if he did not."

"How generous," Sebille murmured.

"How about you?" Lorelai inquired. Scouring the deck for Ifan, she ignored the people recoiling from her skeletal figure.

"I feel no need to hide things from you at this point," Sebille replied cautiously. "You already know my dark past."

"Ah, friendship," Lorelai sighed happily. "I enjoy it very much."

"Mm," was Sebille's apparently disinterested reply.

Lorelai chuckled under her breath and gave Sebille a final gentle pat on the head. She spotted Ifan pacing like a caged wolf, tension clear in his movements and demeanor, so she approached cautiously.

"Ifan, dear one," Lorelai called out in a gentle voice. Ifan halted instantly, squared his shoulders, and spun to give Lorelai a sharp-toothed grin.

"There she is," he said cheerfully, no negativity to be found. "I was wondering where everyone's favorite Godwoken went." He looked around and folded his arms across his chest. "You got the ship moving, eh?"

"I did indeed."

"Nice work," Ifan praised her with a twinkle in his eye. "Looks like I didn't succeed as well as you. Alexander's still alive."

"Yes, I knew even before we boarded the ship," Lorelai told him. "I apologize for not mentioning anything, but the circumstances were curious."

Ifan gazed at her with an inscrutable expression for a moment, then gave her a nonchalant shrug. "Tell me next time, okay?" he said. He smiled again. "Although… next time, I'll make sure for myself."

"Look how honest our Lorelai is!" Sebille called out, raising an eyebrow at Ifan. Ifan curled his lip at her and growled animalistically. "Adorable," Sebille commented with a smirk of her own.

"We are all rather adorable, I believe," Lorelai interjected before the pair could continue their passive-aggressive battle. "I am planning to wander about the ship and chat with the various rodents. Whoever may wish to is free to join me."

"Fine," Sebille answered airily, "but I shall be flipping a coin."

"For what?"

Sebille shrugged languidly. "For luck."

Lorelai laughed softly and nodded. "Ifan?" she inquired.

After a moment of thought, Ifan shook his head. "I'll keep to myself for now," he said gruffly. "Maybe in a bit."

Lorelai smothered the surge of disappointment and simply dipped her head. "We shall speak soon, then," Lorelai decided.


	24. The Calm and the Storm

23\. The Calm and the Storm

* * *

After two days, it became blindingly obvious that Lorelai was being avoided. Every time Lorelai had attempted to converse with Ifan, he had found an excuse to run off after only a minute or two in her company, and he was miserably uncomfortable during any proximity with Lorelai. It hurt, but Lorelai assumed it was Ifan's way of easing into the eventual break when he went to continue his mercenary work.

Lorelai wondered if she would enjoy mercenary work—if there were options other than murder. Sebille might enjoy working as a mercenary. Perhaps they could be a trio of mercenaries after Lorelai had passed the mantle of Divine onto someone else; all she needed was to find that someone else. Until then, she and Fane would work on finding Amadia again.

It was Lorelai's hope that Fane's disdain for mortals would inspire him to convince Amadia to give up on Lorelai's special destiny. Otherwise, he would be useful in convincing Amadia to give the information at which she had hinted the last time she and Lorelai had met. The consuming thought of learning whatever Amadia knew was terrifying to Lorelai. She wanted—no, _needed_—all the distraction she could get.

Since Ifan was currently unresponsive and Sebille was reticent at the best of times, Lorelai was spending more time than she had expected with Fane. They had slept together twice more, which had been a welcome influx of sensation, but her conversations with Fane were appealing in their own way. Once one learned how to ignore Fane's casual disdain for all mortal races that he managed to inject into almost every sentence, one could appreciate Fane's vast intellect. It was like speaking to Dominik again—a cynical, less enamored Dominik, but it was nonetheless comforting. It felt nostalgic, debating things like the origins of the universe or the Void.

"I remember now!" Lorelai gasped. She stood up from her chair and pointed at Fane, who did not raise is eyes from the thick book he was reading. "The Black Ring!" Lorelai cried.

Lorelai was not the least bit discouraged by Fane's inattention. She had noticed that Fane would pause turning pages when she began talking, so he was clearly listening whether he would admit it or not.

"The Black Ring was that cult who tried to bring back the Chaos Demon centuries ago!" Lorelai explained. "They would sacrifice women and—wait, or were those the hood-snatchers?" she interrupted herself. She began to pace with one fingerbone against her chin, and some of the others on the ship tossed her nervous glances. "The Black Ring assuredly attempted to murder the Marked Ones… divines, were those Godwoken…?" she mused. "It is difficult to remember; I did not pay much attention to such things, as they did not affect me… These Black Ring cultists do not give up easily…"

"The origin of the Black Ring is hardly relevant," Fane observed. He turned a page in the book.

"Perhaps," Lorelai admitted, "but it is satisfying to remember where I had heard of them before. I _knew_ I recognized them from somewhere."

"Simply incredible," Fane drawled, his attention having fully returned to his book.

"They might know things about the divines that others do not," Lorelai offered. Fane's finger rested on the edge of the page but did not turn it. "They are, after all, intimately acquainted with the Void and Chaos. Since they are attempting to kill Godwoken, that implies a connection between the Godwoken and the Void, and therefore the divines and the Void."

"I… suppose we could keep an eye out for information," Fane said slowly. With a thoughtful hum, he returned to his book.

"Agreed," Lorelai said. When Fane did nothing but turn pages, reading far more rapidly than anyone Lorelai had ever seen, she left him alone at the small table in the corner and tried to find something else to do.

There were no animals on the ship, not a one. Lorelai suspected it had something to do with the ship being a creature with a soul, a Livewood tree, that kept the animals away, but it made this ship ride quite boring for Lorelai. She decided to wander aimlessly, just like she had on the Merryweather, and simply observe. She fell into a daze for a long time as she walked, thinking of nothing in particular, and it was calming, familiar to her, almost like a form of meditation.

"You," a brisk voice called out, jolting Lorelai back into awareness. Lorelai paused and glanced around. She smiled internally when she caught sight of a scowling red lizard rushing towards her.

"It is refreshing to see that your manners are unchanged," Lorelai noted cheerfully as he stopped in front of her with his arms crossed arrogantly. "I greet you, my friend."

"Yes, yes, fine," the Red Prince dismissed. He studied her with a wary gaze. "According to the gossiping humans aboard this ship," he said, "you have moved into higher circles."

"Whatever do you mean?" Lorelai asked, innocence dripping from every word.

"The _divines_, you imbecile," the Red Prince sighed. "I am surrounded by…" He took a deep breath and looked at Lorelai again. "I find it difficult to credit these rumors," he said far more cordially, "but I do not believe you will lie if I ask you directly: Are you truly Godwoken?"

"I am," Lorelai replied, "and thank you for your trust in my honesty."

"Mm. Yes," the Red Prince said dismissively. "It seems that I have been chosen as your rival, then," he said. "An intriguing turn of circumstance, is it not?"

Lorelai tilted her head to the side curiously. "To what rivalry are you referring?" she inquired, nearly certain of the answer.

"A candidate for Divine, of course," the Red Prince revealed with a lazy aura. "I myself am Godwoken."

"Ah, chosen of Zorl-Stissa, I would assume?" Lorelai asked.

The Red Prince hummed his agreement. "I must ask," he said. "Who is _your_ patron? I cannot fathom who would deign to choose an Undead."

"Amadia," Lorelai replied with a laugh.

"Ah, yes," the Red Prince murmured. "The divine who values magic over race." He scoffed. "The divine who fraternized with a mortal man."

"So the legends say," Lorelai agreed diplomatically. She changed the subject before the Red Prince could continue questioning Lorelai's relationship with Amadia. "Why are you telling me of your status of Godwoken?" she asked.

"We were allies at one point," the Red Prince stated, "so I am offering you the courtesy of rescinding your claim to Divinity without bloodshed. This is the only chance you will have of accepting my proposal."

Lorelai chuckled and shook her head. "I wish to obtain some information before agreeing to anything," she said.

"Oh, I suppose I can oblige," the Red Prince sighed dramatically. He looked to Lorelai expectantly.

"What do you intend to do with the power of a Divine?" Lorelai inquired the moment she received permission.

"Reclaim my empire, of course," the Red Prince replied without hesitation.

Lorelai nodded thoughtfully. "If I may ask," she said, "how did you lose your empire at all?"

The Red Prince scowled deeply and crossed his arms. "Prejudice," he replied in a growl, though his irritation was not aimed at Lorelai.

"Oh?" she asked, intrigued.

"I am the only lizard born with these red scales," the Red Prince stated. "I have been hailed as a… divine entity of sorts as a result."

"That explains many things," Lorelai quipped.

This time, the Red Prince's irritation was aimed at Lorelai, but he continued his tale nonetheless. "I was—am—a brilliant tactician, a war general beloved by all…" The Red Prince trailed off, and an unexpected flash of melancholy crossed his face. "Suffice it to say that I was not permitted to leave my manor in fear that anything might happen to me. All of my exploits I performed from the inside of my palace, a gilded prison."

"You lived in seclusion all your life, then?"

"No, not quite," the Red Prince said. "I had slaves and servants and all the women I could want… but, after the years, I grew bored. Terribly bored."

"That is understandable," Lorelai acknowledged sincerely. She, after all, could relate, having been forced into hiding herself away from civilized folk for much of her existence.

"Yes, well, I relieved my boredom by summoning demons for entertainment and conversation," the Red Prince said casually.

Lorelai tilted her head, considering this revelation. The Red Prince studied her carefully for a moment and seemed satisfied with what he saw.

"You must understand," the Red Prince said, "that I desired the company of someone with a different perspective, someone who could bring a sense of danger to my mundane life, who would not _allow_ me to win at chess in fear of repercussion, who would be thrilling in bed…" The Red Prince sighed dreamily, then returned his focus to Lorelai. "Because of my seclusion, no one knew of my… _preferences_ for years. Unfortunately, however, demons are not the most trustworthy of creatures. During a particularly intense session of fang-play with an enchanting succubus, she decided to attempt to kill me."

"That _is_ unfortunate," Lorelai agreed.

"Mm, yes. Our altercation was heard by a guard before I could kill her. I was found in bed with a demon and promptly banished."

"One could say that you were caught… red handed," Lorelai could not help but add.

The Red Prince sighed deeply and rolled his eyes. "Simply brilliant," he drawled.

Lorelai chuckled but quickly returned to the matter at hand. "How has banished life been suiting you thus far?" she inquired.

"Quite well, actually," the Red Prince admitted. "Although it lacks the comfort to which I am accustomed, it certainly fulfills my desire for adventure."

"Then why do you wish to return to your empire at all?"

"Because it is mine by right," the Red Prince retorted. "I shall retake it and rule it as I should have been allowed: without restriction."

"I see," Lorelai murmured. "One more question, if you please," she said after a pause. The Red Prince waved an imperious hand. "What, pray tell, is fang-play?"

The Red Prince's proceeding grin was positively feral as he launched into an unnecessarily detailed explanation of a particularly violent form of sex.

Lorelai stored the details for later.

After a surprisingly lengthy conversation about different sexual techniques, the Red Prince was distracted enough that he had completely forgotten his intention of coercing Lorelai into stepping down as Godwoken. Lorelai herself was delighted to be having a relatively civil conversation with the Red Prince, albeit about some questionable practices. They were in the midst of a fascinating discussion on the benefits of having a forked tongue when shouts from above heralded the arrival of some disaster or another.

Lorelai tried to ignore it, but a series of crashes and heavy footsteps forced her to accept that the situation required her attention. She grumbled disappointedly, and the Red Prince seemed similarly disgruntled by the interruption. Both huffed a sigh at the stairwell, and Lorelai chuckled at her and the Red Prince's similar reactions as they both headed towards the stairs.

"I have supremely rotten luck with ships," Lorelai proclaimed as the ship creaked loudly as though impacted from above.

"Perhaps it is a trait of the Godwoken," the Red Prince replied with dry humor.

Lorelai laughed under her breath and made to reply, when a bolt of lightning shook every deck. Lorelai had assumed the chaos was merely from an approaching storm or a minor altercation among the ship's passengers, but they seemed to be under attack. Without another thought, Lorelai prepared the spell that would summon Bunny, and the Red Prince drew the sword that hung from his hip.

"I have never actually seen you fight," the Red Prince commented as they ascended. "Are you capable?"

Lorelai snickered. "I do believe I detect a hint of worry for my safety?" she said cheekily. The Red Prince rolled his eyes and sped up his pace, making it to the top deck just before Lorelai joined him.

"Oh dear," Lorelai murmured at the carnage in front of her. The deck was burning in multiple places, the rest of it crawling with Silent Monks, gheists, and magisters. A massive ship was bobbing alongside the Lady Vengeance, and two figures stood upon its tallest deck.

"Kill the traitors!" one of the figures shouted.

"You will not take me, Dallis!" the Lady Vengeance roared at the speaker. "I will never again serve as your slave!"

The entire ship glowed softly, and Lorelai felt a surge of power rush through her body. It was accompanied by a trace of fury mixed with desperation, and Lorelai guessed the Lady Vengeance's emotions were influencing the spell she had cast.

"We had better not shipwreck again," Lorelai mumbled. She finished her spell, and Bunny materialized at her side. "Dispose of the magisters and their pets," Lorelai ordered.

_"My pleasure_," Bunny replied in a soft hiss. She eagerly slid across the deck, and Lorelai glanced to the Red Prince.

"If you will rush the enemies," she said, "I shall gladly protect your back."

"There is no need," the Red Prince said briskly. Without another word, he retrieved his shield from his back and barreled towards the closest Silent Monk.

"Godwoken!" Malady yelled from the helm. She was surrounded by a ring of enemies that she was blasting with small bursts of electricity. "Get over here!"

Lorelai cast a last worried glance to the Red Prince, but he had already killed his first enemy. Reassured, Lorelai rushed to Malady's side, pausing only to freeze Malady's attackers in their tracks.

"Protect me," Malady ordered. "We cannot win this fight, but I can teleport this ship out of danger. I just need time to prepare the spell."

"Agreed," Lorelai replied instantly.

Malady skittered away from the enemies and took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she began gathering magic around her. Lorelai positioned herself in front of Malady and flicked her wrists, causing one of the frozen Silent Monks to shatter. She systematically killed two more before the freezing spell wore off, and the final three attacked her.

Lorelai did not enjoy close-quarters combat, but she had no choice. Therefore, she quickly swathed herself in barriers that deflected the gheist's claws without issue. The two Silent Monks began casting spells that would strip the barriers from her body, so Lorelai cast her least-favorite spell: a silencing spell. Both Monks instantly stopped casting, unable to use magic anymore, and rushed at her armed with wickedly sharp daggers.

From there, it was nothing but a game of cat-and-mouse. Lorelai would weave between the three and cast small bursts of magic, all that she could manage without the necessary time to prepare large spells. The gheist fell first, thankfully, as it was the most fierce and quick of the three. A sharp bolt of ice finally caught it through the eye, instantly bringing it to its knees. It took one more ice bolt to kill it completely, and the Silent Monks took advantage of the time to launch simultaneous attacks against Lorelai.

The silencing spell must have worn off, because they both cast a blast of frost magic at her. Her barrier prevented them from freezing her completely, but their combined magic was enough to incapacitate both her legs. Luckily, she did not need legs to cast magic. Now that the Monks had their own magic back, they lingered farther from Lorelai, no longer rushing at her with daggers.

With a deep breath to banish her weariness, Lorelai began preparing a large spell. She ignored the Monks' barrage of magic, even when one of her ribs snapped clean off from a particularly powerful aerothurge spell. Lorelai finally finished her spell, then released it all at once.

Two jets of flame so compact that they looked solid rushed from Lorelai's hands. The heat was so intense that Lorelai could feel traces of warmth, and each tongue of flame bored a hole straight through a Silent Monk's skull. The pair fell without a sound, and Lorelai lowered her arms. She glanced around for nearby enemies and, seeing none close enough to merit immediate attention, Lorelai gently melted the ice from her legs and retrieved her rib. It was a clean slice, an easy fix, so Lorelai stored it into her pack for now.

"I'm ready," Malady grunted from behind Lorelai. Lorelai turned to see a small vortex of bright light surrounding Malady. "This will hurt… a lot."

When the light burst from Malady, engulfing the entire ship, the screams that surrounded Lorelai made her grateful that she was not wearing her mask.


	25. Allies of Convenience

24\. Allies of Convenience

* * *

"This… is rather convenient," Fane heard Lorelai say as she looked around their current location. She was standing next to Fane, even though they had been on opposite sides of the ship during battle.

Then again, they were clearly no longer on the ship.

"Where…?" Fane breathed. He was vaguely aware that he was a skeleton again, his mask apparently ineffective in this place. "This is not of your primitive world…"

"The Hall of Echoes," Lorelai informed him. "See? I told you we would find a way to visit this place."

Fane spun in a daze and slowly approached one of the towering structures that lined the path of glowing stone they were on. He placed a skeletal hand against the stone and wished he could feel the true texture. Lorelai was blessedly silent as Fane continued to wander the place, expecting to wake up at any moment.

Fane suddenly remembered that Lorelai had said they were in the Hall of Echoes, Amadia's apparent home. She would have answers for him. Fane forcibly collected himself, cleared his mind, and turned his gaze to Lorelai. She was watching him without perceptible emotion, and Fane wondered what she thought of his infatuation.

"Bring me to Amadia," Fane ordered, adding a note of arrogance into his tone. "I have some questions."

"I as well," Lorelai reminded him.

Without further ado, she led the way down the path, Fane following slowly behind. Neither spoke even as a golden light ahead implied their destination, but both Fane and Lorelai simultaneously increased their pace until they were only a few paces in front of a glowing humanoid woman, one that looked just like the Amadia that Fane remembered.

"My child, welcome back," Amadia said warmly to Lorelai and without a glance to Fane. Lorelai visibly stiffened, perhaps angered, but Fane was too shocked to wonder why.

"Lady Amadia?" Fane inquired disbelievingly. "How…?"

"Ah, Fane," Amadia said with a large, savage grin. "It is good to see you again."

"Where are the Eternals?" Fane cried. "Where are our people? How did you become…" He gestured to Amadia, waving his hand up and down to indicate her glowing personage.

"The answers will come in time, Fane," Amadia said. "Now is not that time."

"What is it with you and withholding information?" Lorelai snapped, clear irritation in her voice. "Is there some divine law proclaiming that you all must speak in riddles and play games with us lesser beings?"

"I must agree with Lorelai," Fane chimed in with the same emotion.

"You have brought me Fane, just as I asked," Amadia told Lorelai as though neither Fane nor she had spoken. "In return, I shall tell you that the answers you seek are with an elven encampment on the Reaper's Coast. They know you and your family."

"You promised me answers!" Lorelai shouted furiously. "Now you send me on another little quest for your own entertainment? What do you—"

Amadia sighed, and a greenish-blue smoke enveloped Lorelai, instantly cutting her off. When the smoke dissipated, there was no one where Lorelai had been. Fane returned his attention to Amadia, who had a tiny smile on her face while she regarded the spot where Lorelai had disappeared.

After a few moments, Fane coughed to get Amadia's attention.

"The Seven are at war," Amadia said with clear satisfaction, still staring at the vacant stone. "Only one other has been focused enough to choose a Godwoken, and her champion is no match for mine."

"At… war? Why?" Fane echoed with alarm. "Where are the rest of the Eternals?"

Amadia focused on Fane, an indecipherable look in her eyes. "Our king already knew about the Veil, Fane," she told him gravely. "He was using it, leeching from it to bolster his own power."

"He… knew of it?" Fane breathed in disbelief. "But how…"

Amadia bowed her head mournfully. "The other Lords and I confronted him about this," she continued, "and he turned on us, tried to make us into mindless slaves bound to his every whim."

"I knew he was short-sighted, but I never thought he would go so far…" Fane murmured, trying to wrap his mind around this revelation. "What happened to the Veil? Did he destroy it?"

"No, not completely," Amadia replied, "but he did weaken it, causing cracks to form from which he could draw more power. The Lords worked together to banish him beyond the Veil, but the devastation he caused…" Amadia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "All of our people, Fane. Our entire race, destroyed by a single man's hunger for power."

Fane's entire body went cold, and he barely kept himself from falling to his knees. Logically, it made sense that his race was extinct, but to hear it firsthand was still a shock. Fane had still had hope that remnants of his world existed somewhere, but no longer.

"And now," Amadia continued, "the king has discovered a method of escape: the Void. The Veil is even more ancient than us, and it serves to hold the Void at bay. The king has allied with the Void, has allowed it to seep into this world for his revenge and, eventually, his escape."

"How… can we stop him?" Fane asked, his mind still reeling.

"The Lords were holding back the Void with our powers, but we have grown… divided."

"Why?" Fane demanded hotly, his confusion suddenly replaced by unfocused fury. "How can you be at war now?"

"I fear that the Void has corrupted them," Amadia sighed, "made them weak and petty. But you, Fane, you are the only Eternal not corrupted by the Void. I need you to guide my Godwoken."

"Wait, how do you mean?" Fane snapped. If Amadia changed topic now, he might never receive the answers he so desperately needed. "How did you even become divines?" he asked hastily, trying to get as many questions out as possible. "How did you banish the king? What exactly is beyond the Veil? Can the other Lords see reason?"

"Make certain my chosen Godwoken continues seeking me," Amadia said instead of acknowledging him. "If she ever decides that I am not worth the trouble, as they say, remind her of her motivations for returning to me. Every time my Godwoken comes to see me, you must go with her." She finally looked at Fane, then smiled. "Oh, and inform her that I have given her a new power: the ability to see spirits. It is permanent. If she casts Spirit Sight unto others, the effects will last for a fortnight."

Fane opened his mouth to demand a proper reply, but his vision blacked out before he could.

When he could see again, he was standing beside the skeletal form of Lorelai.

"If you do not mind my saying so," Lorelai spoke the moment he looked at her, "I do not much care for your Lady Amadia."

"I am beginning to feel likewise," Fane muttered before he could stop himself.

Fane was surprised by the admission, not even sure if it was true, but he certainly was not Amadia's greatest fan at the moment. He had thought he would get answers to all his questions, but he had instead been ordered to follow around this Godwoken of hers. Fane was not some errand boy.

"Are all your people so…" Lorelai trailed off and sighed.

"The Seven Lords—your gods—have always been remarkably condescending," Fane answered her unfinished question, "but the rest of my people were varied in personality, form, and belief. Do not generalize us." He added a warning note into his voice for the last sentence, and Lorelai nodded.

"How does it feel for Amadia to treat you the same as you treat us lesser races?" she stated dryly in response.

Fane was uncertain how to reply, and Lorelai chuckled.

"But enough of this," she said with her usual cheer. "We ought to find out why this ship is full of greenish people and apparently floating in the Hall of Echoes."

Fane finally registered the rest of the ship and realized that Lorelai was correct. They were standing on the top deck of the Lady Vengeance, surrounded, as she had said, by the sparkling mountains and deep blue air. There were no greenish people, however, and he suddenly remembered what Amadia had told him just before she sent him away.

"Spirits," Fane said. "Amadia said that she gave you Spirit Sight. I believe you are seeing the dead."

"…Ah," Lorelai murmured, sounding more thoughtful than despondent as Fane would have expected. "I suppose that explains the green and translucence," she stated after a cursory glance around.

"Amadia also mentioned that you can cast the spell on others. Its effects last two weeks. For you, however, this is permanent."

"Amadia certainly enjoys imposing unwanted power onto me," Lorelai growled in response. "How bloody kind of her." She sighed deeply. "As you are a scholar, I suppose you would like me to cast Spirit Sight upon you?" she inquired with a certain amount of defeat in her voice.

"Yes," Fane replied. He was curious, as anyone would be, to see echoes from the dead.

Lorelai hummed in response and flicked a hand. Fane saw a familiar blue smoke surround his body and, for a moment, he thought he was returning to Amadia. When it faded away, however, he was exactly where he had been but now surrounded by a scattering of spirits. He recognized a few as Seekers, but not many; Fane had barely paid attention to anyone during this miserable ship ride.

"This is not everyone," Lorelai noted after a moment. "Perhaps some others are still living." The desperate hope in her voice was unmistakable, and Fane supposed she was trying to convince herself that her two other companions were alive. Based on the number of spirits around him, Fane doubted it.

Nonetheless, he followed Lorelai down the decks. Every other deck was empty, even of spirits, except for the last one. Gathered together in the back of the ship was a small gaggle of people, all with dazed expressions on their faces. The living seemed to consist of a trio of children, a half dozen Seekers, and a scattering of other adults. The man on the bed, Divine Alexander, was gone.

"Ah, my friends!" Lorelai cried, instantly rushing forwards. She pushed through the others until she reached the bearded human and the scarred elf. She pulled them both into a tight hug that only the human returned. Lorelai next offered a red-scaled lizard a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I am glad to see you all alive."

"You too," the human said warmly. Lorelai gave him another hug, which made him laugh. "When I didn't see you down here, I thought the worst."

"Thank Lucian our Godwoken is still alive," the dark-skinned human—what was his name? Gerald? Herbert?—said with clear relief.

"Gareth,"—that was his name—"I am glad to see you as well," Lorelai replied likewise. "And you, Simone." Lorelai went around greeting every single person crowded there. She knew them all by name and was enthusiastic even towards those who eyed her with clear dislike.

Fane turned away, deciding to ask the dead some questions. They were likely more interesting than the living.

xXxXxXx

"So, you transported us through an alternate dimension, killing most of the ship's passengers, just to rid us of the enemies?" Lorelai said after Malady finished explaining their current state of affairs.

"That is exactly what happened," Malady replied shortly. "Are you satisfied?"

Only a few minutes after reuniting with Ifan and Sebille, the blue void they could see through the windows was replaced by sunlight filtering through a deep ocean. Lorelai and the others had instantly ascended to the top deck, relieved to be back on the sea, to find an exhausted Malady bracing herself against the ship's wheel.

After coughing up a pool of Source infusion, Malady had deigned to answer Lorelai's many questions about what had happened and why everyone was dead.

Lorelai was not satisfied.

"You killed the people on this ship just to rid us of the enemies?" Lorelai repeated.

"Yes," Malady retorted after rolling her eyes. "We would not have won that fight. I used a nearly fatal amount of energy to transport as many of you as I could, but I could not save everyone. You are welcome for saving you."

"…Thank you for saving those you could," Lorelai mumbled, most of her anger dissipating when Malady coughed again, weariness clear in her face.

"Mm, yes," Malady said. "Now, leave me be. Talking to you all is as exhausting as casting that spell was."

Lorelai hesitated for only a moment before she dipped her head and returned to her companions. Most of the spirits had disappeared, thankfully, but the few that remained refused to hold a coherent conversation with Lorelai. Lorelai did not want this power. She did not want to see the dead, the spirits who could not move on, and she internally cursed Amadia for the umpteenth time.

"Everything good?" Ifan asked her when she joined them.

Lorelai drew herself out of her morose thoughts and nodded once. "How long until we reach the Reaper's Coast?" she asked instead of revealing how she really felt.

"Couple weeks," Ifan replied.

"And what are the chances that we remain afloat until then?" Lorelai grumbled.

"With our luck?" Sebille said. "Slim to none."

"Also with our luck, though," Ifan added, "we'll manage to survive by the skin of our teeth."

"Since I have neither skin nor survival," Lorelai said with a laugh, "then I must rely on my teeth and the luck Sebille gave me."

"It is always a pleasure to be at your service, darling," Sebille drawled in response.

"And it is likewise to be at yours," Lorelai replied. She gave Ifan a hesitant nod. "You as well," she said softly.

"Er…" Ifan smiled back with clear uncertainty. "Yes," he said gruffly. "You too. Uh, thanks. Right."

"Are we still friends?" she asked him, hoping he had not been ignoring her because he was angry.

"Of course!" Ifan cried, clearly shocked. "Why would you not think that?"

"Ah, that is good to hear," Lorelai said happily. She began ushering the frightened children towards her, ignoring the complaints of a Seeker nearby. "I am certain I can rustle up some fruit juice," Lorelai comforted them, eliciting a smile or two.

"Can you drink juice?" Han, the bravest of the children, asked as Lorelai corralled them towards the larder.

"Oh, somewhat," Lorelai replied warmly. "I can put it in my mouth, but I cannot taste it."

"But where's it go?" a young girl, Trice, piped up.

"I have no idea," Lorelai informed her. "It simply disappears."

"But how's that possible?"

"I am afraid I cannot give you a satisfactory answer to that either," Lorelai said, "and I try not to ponder it. I have heard that an Undead will break apart if one contemplates the nature of one's existence."

"That'd be sad," the third child said. "I don't want you to fall apart."

"Why, thank you!" Lorelai cried as she ruffled his hair.

By the time they reached the larder, the children were much more cheerful. It took mere seconds for Lorelai to find a crate of apple juice and dried cranberries, and the children swarmed to the sweets without hesitation. Lorelai watched them as they chattered excitedly with one another. Children were resilient creatures; they could recover from this far more quickly than most adults, but Lorelai knew they would carry the horrors from the past month with them their entire lives.

A woman peeked into the larder, the same Seeker who had been glaring at Lorelai earlier. "What are you doing?" the Seeker growled suspiciously, so Lorelai stood.

"Do not eat all of those at once," she instructed the children sternly, and all glanced up at her with juice-stained mouths and guilty faces. "I do not wish for you to grow sick." Lorelai patted Han on the head, and he gave her a gap-toothed grin. "I shall leave you in the capable hands of this Seeker," Lorelai told the children, "but know that I am always available if you have need of me."

"Wait!" Trice shouted. She waved a mug of juice at Lorelai. "Before you go, I wanna see the juice disappear!"

Lorelai chuckled and obligingly took the juice from Trice. She made a grand show of pouring the liquid into her skull, and the awed gasps of the children made her grin internally. She handed the cup back with an ostentatious bow.

"Cool!" Trice cried.

"Do it again!" Han said.

"I shall later, dear ones," Lorelai promised. She dipped her head cordially to the glowering Seeker and slipped out of the room.

Fane was Lorelai's next stop, and she had a hunch of where she would find him. Sure enough, he was on the top deck trying to ask spirits about their state of existence. The spirits paid him no attention as they repeated motions or words. The other people on the top deck were staring at him strangely.

"You remember that only you and I can see spirits at the moment," Lorelai said when she was behind him. Fane jumped with a quick gasp and looked at her. "I believe the rest of our shipmates have deemed you insane."

"Should that matter to me?" Fane asked crossly without looking at her. "I could not care less about their opinions."

Lorelai took a deep breath and crossed her arms. "After Lady Amadia sent me from the Hall of Echoes, you remained there for some time. Did you learn anything about your people?"

Fane froze with the stillness only an Undead could replicate. He turned his head and blinked at Lorelai, the brown eyes of his mask distracted and scattered. "Yes," he said.

"Care to divulge?"

"Eradicated," was the soft reply. "Extinct."

Lorelai could not say she was surprised by this revelation, as Fane had mentioned it as a possibility many times, but it still pierced her to see Fane's distress. "How did this come to pass?" she inquired.

Fane sighed and gently closed his notebook. He looked around as though to make sure no one else was in earshot, then folded his arms across his chest. "Back when I had real flesh," he said, "I was a scholar with close ties to the ruling family. I discovered a… Veil of pure Source separating our world from another. It could have held the secrets of the universe: the origins of existence, of our ancestors, of any creatures living in a different plane invisible or parallel to ours." Fane stared at Lorelai with a desperate supplication in his eyes. "Can you comprehend the implications of this?" he asked.

"It would finally be something impactful enough to garner my attention," Lorelai murmured almost to herself.

"…Explain," Fane said. Lorelai was surprised by the intensity in his tone and expression.

Lorelai chose her words carefully but honestly, hoping she would not unintentionally offend Fane. "This war, the death of Lucian the Divine, the fear of Source… none of it garnered my attention," she admitted. "I know that it will pass in a few years or decades—a century or two at most. The last historical event that I found important was the reign of Braccus Rex, and that mostly because of the influx of rediscovered technology, new methods of utilizing Source, and the sharp increase in necromancers. The Undead flourished, to be quite honest." Lorelai folded her arms and heaved a heavy sigh. "Otherwise, I have noticed that very few events last long enough for me to notice. The universe, however, has lasted long enough to interest me thousands of times over. Learning of it would be fascinating at the very least."

Fane smiled just slightly and nodded. "I thought you might understand," he murmured. "Unfortunately," he said in a brisker tone, "my king did not agree. I had thought he would have been as eager as I was to research it, but he forbade me from continuing."

"Why?" Lorelai inquired gently when Fane's expression began growing agitated.

"He said it was potentially dangerous," Fane snapped. "I foolishly disobeyed him and brought my findings to the Seven. They were intrigued, but I was detained by the king and sealed into a tomb to rot until I died. I got out just months ago, and here I am."

"And your people…?"

"Ah, yes," Fane said, taken aback as though he had forgotten the original topic of conversation. "Lady Amadia informed me that, after I was sealed away, she and the other Lords confronted the king and learned that he already knew about the Veil, that he was using it to bolster his own power, and the king attempted to control their minds with his Source. The ensuing war wiped out my people, but the Seven managed to lock the king in the Void beyond the Veil. The Voidwoken and corruption of Source are a result of the king trying to escape."

"Oh," Lorelai said, trying to wrap her mind around that deluge of information. "Gracious, perhaps current events are, in fact, important for millennia to come."

"Something still seems strange, however," Fane continued. "Lady Amadia was—is—hiding something, but I do not know what."

"You do not trust her at her word?" Lorelai asked carefully, and Fane responded with a sardonic chuckle.

"Of course not," he said dryly. "Lady Amadia told you and me what she wanted us to know, and nothing more. It would be unwise to believe we truly know anything at all."

Lorelai sighed heavily and gazed up at the bright sun. "I despise these mind games," she murmured.

"Hopefully, I will learn more from the Blackpits," Fane said, "and you from the elven tribe."

"I… I do not wish to be Godwoken," Lorelai murmured without moving her gaze from the sky.

"Perhaps you could use the power to unlock the secrets of the universe," Fane offered. "That would be a subject worth pursuing, would it not?"

Lorelai would have smiled if her bones allowed such a thing. "That could be worthwhile," she acknowledged.

"Since Lady Amadia is quite insistent on your ascension to Divine," he said, "you may wish to start thinking of how you would use the power, whether you want it or not."

"I shall consider it," Lorelai replied thoughtfully. She dipped her head to Fane. "Thank you for your suggestion and for telling me of your history," she said humbly. "I am deeply sorry for the loss of your people, and I hope I can be of any help in your quest for absolute truth."

"…Thank you," Fane said, "and you are welcome." He nodded briskly before he stepped away, leaving Lorelai with much to ponder.


	26. A Sensitive Topic or Two

25\. A Sensitive Topic or Two

* * *

For the first time in far too long, Ifan felt at home. Driftwood was just as he remembered it—maybe a few extra contaminated fish here and there—and he was eager to give Lorelai a tour.

The moment the ship had arrived in the Reaper's Coast, the group had headed to Driftwood. Sebille and Fane were scouting the town as, much to Ifan's delight, he had been recognized and nearly arrested the second he had stepped through the gates. Ever the peace-maker, Lorelai had bribed the magister with some of the gold they had pilfered from the Vault of Braccus. She had still been worried that other magisters would recognize Ifan, however, so she had convinced him to go to a safe place to lie low.

Thus, in the spirit of safety, Ifan had brought Lorelai to the underground crime den that housed just about every lowlife on the Reaper's Coast. It was good to be home.

"I have a question," Ifan said as he and a masked Lorelai sat together on the hard ground.

"Feel free to ask," Lorelai said quietly while she watched the outlaws milling about. She looked slightly nervous, especially as the people laughed boisterously with one another.

"Scratch that," Ifan said as he stared at her, partially dazed by the beauty of her profile. "I have two questions."

"I repeat my previous reply," Lorelai replied.

"First," Ifan said after a small chuckle, "I thought I saw you kill the Silent Monks on the ship." Ifan watched Lorelai closely, searching for a reaction, but Lorelai gave no hint to her feelings. She blinked, her long lashes fluttering in the torchlight, yet she did not speak. "Did you?" Ifan prompted without judgement.

Lorelai nodded calmly without even turning her head to face him. She looked utterly serene.

"I thought…" Ifan trailed off and wondered if he were broaching a sensitive topic.

"I have killed before, Ifan," Lorelai said with disarming nonchalance, "and I will likely kill again."

"Why?" Ifan asked simply. He was now certain he was treading into dangerous waters, so he kept his tone as soothing as possible.

"I fight to protect," Lorelai replied.

"Who?" Ifan inquired even though he knew the answer already.

Lorelai finally looked to Ifan and raised one thin eyebrow. "Ifan, dear one," she said indulgently, almost mockingly, "you are well aware that I employ violence to help my friends. I _have_ done so in self-preservation, but such a thing is…" Lorelai's lip twitched in a miniscule display of distress. "If _I_ may ask a question, however," Lorelai continued abruptly, sudden sharpness in her voice, "why do you care?"

Ifan recoiled at the uncharacteristic coldness, though her expression was again pure tranquility. "Didn't mean to pry," he said gruffly, and Lorelai sighed, placing one hand over her eyes for a moment.

"I… apologize," Lorelai said with pleading sincerity. "It has been quite some time since I killed someone, and I keep wondering if I could have done something differently. There were so many reasons I killed those Monks, so I know I ought to feel justified…"

"What were your reasons?" Ifan asked, careful not to seem at all judgmental.

"I was protecting Malady," Lorelai said, "and it is difficult to calculate how much force one should use to incapacitate but not kill when one is battling so many foes." Lorelai paused, and Ifan saw clear uncertainty in her face. "Additionally, the Silent Monks seem to be in so much pain," she finally murmured. "I am always so tempted to put them out of their misery."

Ifan nodded and patted her comfortingly on the shoulder. "I get it," he said. "I do. Thanks for telling me."

"Of course, dear one," Lorelai said warmly. The strange calmness was gone, replaced with a heartfelt fondness that made Ifan's breath catch. "Thank you for listening," Lorelai said. Ifan suddenly realized that he loved her voice. It was soothing, enchanting, and he wanted to listen to her for hours. "Now, I believe you had a second question?"

"Oh, r-right." Ifan cleared his throat and attempted to collect his thoughts. "What happened on the ship with Fane?"

For some reason, Lorelai blinked rapidly, her eyes wide. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"When Malady teleported us," Ifan clarified. "You two weren't with the rest of us."

Lorelai relaxed immediately, and a tiny, enigmatic smile flitted across her lips. "We had another meeting with Amadia," she explained. "I learned nothing of import," she said before Ifan could ask, "but Fane discovered that his entire race went extinct because of a power-hungry king."

Ifan did not particularly like the self-important Eternal, but he frowned sympathetically. "That's… hard to hear," he rumbled.

"…Yes," Lorelai whispered, her eyes fixed on the ground, and Ifan would bet anything that she was thinking about the fall of the elves. She looked back at him and smiled without a trace of unhappiness. "I know I say often that I wish I had remained in the forest," Lorelai began, "but I truly am glad to be here. With you. I am very happy to have met you."

Lorelai's expression was so open, so sincere, and her words were so honest that Ifan could not help a blush from creeping across his cheeks. "Er, thanks," he mumbled when he was articulate. "Truth be told, I doubt I would've managed any of this without you."

Lorelai beamed in response, and her smile was so absolutely dazzling that Ifan could barely remember to react when she drew towards him and clutched him in a tight hug. He was limp in her arms for a moment, but his increasing heart rate reminded him that he had to reciprocate, so he did. Just like always, Lorelai's skin was cool to the touch, but Ifan cherished the sensation.

It felt like years before Lorelai drew away, and her expression slowly fell until she was looking at him with an odd mixture of calculation and sadness. "Ifan, why exactly have you been avoiding me lately?" she asked solemnly. Ifan blanched and glanced away sharply. He considered playing dumb, but Lorelai was no imbecile.

"I've just been sorting some things out in my head," Ifan said. He knew he was being unnecessarily cryptic, but he could not quite muster up the courage to be more specific. Lorelai watched him, clearly expecting more, and Ifan felt compelled to look away again. He heard Lorelai make a small hum, and silence descended on the pair. Ifan shifted uncomfortably but added, "Look, it's my problem, not yours."

"…I understand," Lorelai replied, but the hurt in her voice was unmistakable. Ifan's heart thudded painfully, so he turned to her imploringly.

"I didn't mean anything by that," Ifan pleaded. "I'm sorry—I truly am." He sighed and scratched his head uncomfortably. "I only meant that nothing's your fault, and it's not as though I don't like you. I do like you, Lorelai. I like you a _lot_—more than I have anyone in a long time," he said rapidly, suddenly unable to stop speaking. "I don't want to think about going back to the Lone Wolves because I don't want to leave _you_. I've just been trying to… understand this," he stressed. "I shut you out because of that, and I'm sorry."

Before Lorelai had the chance to reply, a low whistle drew Ifan's attention to a group of outlaws playing cards at a nearby table. They all had shit-eating grins on their faces, and Ifan braced himself for what he knew was coming.

"Ben-Mezd has a crush!" one of the women called out in a singsong voice. The resulting whoops and raucous laughter inspired a blush on Ifan's face and a smirk on Lorelai's. She glanced at Ifan and wiggled her eyebrows teasingly.

"Is that so?" Lorelai asked, almost sarcastically.

"That's… about the truth," Ifan admitted with as much nonchalance as he could manage. In reality, he felt more nervous than he ever remembered feeling before.

The audience gasped and whistled while Lorelai gazed at him with an expression of utter shock. The seconds it took her to react were decades to Ifan, but her pleased smile was worth the wait. Even better was when she leaned towards Ifan and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. Cheers and laughter echoed through the Undercity, and Lorelai jolted as though she had only now noticed the leering crowd. She blushed lightly and smiled shyly at Ifan, who could barely hold her gaze in his embarrassment.

"I forgive you," Lorelai told him, "and I think I quite like you as well."

Then, to Ifan's flustered delight, she tipped so that her head was resting against his shoulder and closed her eyes with a soft sigh of contentment. Ifan aimlessly ran a hand through her curled hair as he tried to slow his heart rate to a normal level. The others in the Undercity were still smirking at him, but he was too ecstatic to care. Ifan felt like a heavy load had been lifted from his shoulders, that he could relax for the first time since the day he had met the mysterious elf talking to herself on the Merryweather. Ifan took a deep breath and decided to follow Lorelai's example. He leaned his head against the wall behind him and closed his eyes, a smile still on his face.

At that moment, Ifan knew his loyalties. He had been the confidante of Lucian, an agent of Roost, but now he could only think about _her._ Ifan knew in his soul that he would take on every single other person in Rivellon if it meant keeping her safe.

xXxXxXx

Lorelai kept her eyes closed even as she recognized Sebille's soft footsteps approaching. She wanted to savor this moment, to commit this unfamiliar emotion to memory, this warmth that filled her body and soul. She did not remember feeling this sense of peace ever since Dominik, the only person she had ever trusted implicitly, had died. She wondered if that meant she trusted Ifan implicitly, and she was unsure how she felt about that. What she did know, however, was that she was happy, relaxed, and content.

"Apparently," Sebille's amused voice interrupted Lorelai's tranquility, "I can't leave you two alone for one moment. The pair of you are the gossip of the hour."

"News spreads fast here," Ifan answered her in his self-assured tone, "and most of it is exaggerated."

"Mmhm," Sebille drawled with clear disbelief. "Lorelai," she said briskly, "we are all fully aware that you are not asleep." Lorelai smiled and cracked open one eye to regard Sebille. She did not remove her head from Ifan's shoulder, and he seemed perfectly content with that. "The Eternal and I found the Meistr," Sebille continued, and Lorelai perked up. "Unfortunately, she had been executed." Lorelai drooped, and Ifan cursed under his breath. "Fortunately," Sebille added, "we ransacked her home, found an intriguing laboratory, and spoke with the spirit of her assistant—well, the Eternal did. I, sadly, have no such power."

"Would you like it?" Lorelai inquired. She sat up but did not miss Ifan's sigh of disappointment when she did.

"I was hoping you would offer," Sebille said smugly.

Lorelai chuckled and looked to Ifan. "You?"

"Er… sure, why not," Ifan decided. Lorelai obligingly cast the spell twice, surprised slightly when it drained her energy at a rapid rate.

"Huh," Ifan said as he looked around. "Not too many spirits around here. I'm surprised."

"What did the Meistr's assistant say?" Lorelai prompted Sebille, who was inspecting an oblivious spirit nearby. Sebille reluctantly returned her attention to Lorelai.

"Mm, she instructed us to increase your Source abilities and gave us the recipe and ingredients to travel to the Hall of Echoes once, an act that apparently only a Godwoken can perform."

"That… is useful," Lorelai said. "Thank you."

"The elven clan that you are likely searching for is just east of here," Sebille said after a small nod of acknowledgement. Lorelai felt a bolt of terror and anticipation at Sebille's words, and her posture tensed almost painfully. "I also learned that Roost is somewhere in the north," Sebille added. She lowered her voice after a cursory glance around and took a step closer to Lorelai. "He is offering a hefty reward for the heads of Godwoken," she said. Ifan frowned deeply, and Sebille regarded the pair with a grave expression. "They are specifically searching for a female Undead elf. We must be careful."

"Where'd you hear all this?" Ifan asked suspiciously as he rose to his feet.

"A Lone Wolf," Sebille replied with a casual flick of her hand. "He was pretending to be some noble, but the noble's lingering spirit informed our Eternal companion of the farce. A few twists of the needle later, I had information in hand and a dead Wolf at my feet."

"…Well, we all know the risks when we join the Lone Wolves," Ifan said, but Lorelai could tell he was affected. "Do you know _why_ they're collecting Godwoken?" he asked briskly. "Might be important."

"I'm afraid we will have to ask Roost that," Sebille said with a crooked grin. "It should be an interesting conversation, given our association with the Godwoken. To think that, in a different world, your target could have been Lorelai."

"That would have been a shame," Lorelai said, wondering how badly she would have been forced to hurt Ifan if he had tried to kill her.

"Yeah, I can't say that's a nice thought," Ifan murmured. His expression was troubled, so Lorelai smiled at him.

"I would have charmed you into sparing my life," she informed him confidently. "I believe we would have ended up in just about the same place as we are now."

Ifan gave her a sharp-toothed grin and helped her to her feet. He looked her up and down, then nodded. "And if you didn't manage to charm me, I'd be the one worse for wear," he said humorously.

"As adorable as the two of you are," Sebille said while Lorelai and Ifan were sharing a smile, "this is not the most discreet place to speak of these matters."

"Mm, true," Lorelai said. She stretched and could not help notice Ifan staring at her with a dazed expression, only stopping when Sebille cleared her throat. Ifan glanced at her, and she winked at him. "And where is Fane?" Lorelai inquired, pretending not to notice Ifan's discomfort and Sebille's amusement as the trio made their way to the entrance of the Undercity.

"He began arguing with a man in the square about history books," Sebille replied, "so I simply left him there."

"I hope he did not get lost," Lorelai fretted. "Or banned from a civilized establishment for insulting everyone there."

"The latter is more likely," Sebille said, "but either would be amusing."

Lorelai surveyed her companions: the mercenary who held her affection, the assassin whom Lorelai trusted without reservation, and the currently-absent Eternal who was growing to be a friend. Lorelai could not think of a time when she had felt more content with her lot.


	27. Friendly Campfire Chatter

26\. Friendly Campfire Chatter

* * *

Lorelai wrung her hands together nervously as she trailed at the back of the group. She was allowing the others to lead the way to the elven encampment, presumably the one Amadia promised would contain answers, and Lorelai felt ill. She would finally, after more than four thousand years, know what happened to her daughter. She would know if she had any living family, how her clan had fared after her death, and maybe even some details about the life she barely remembered anymore. If this was not the correct clan, however, or if Amadia had deceived her again, Lorelai would be crushed. The anticipation was unbearable, and she wanted to scream.

They would likely not arrive today, so Lorelai dreaded the next few hours of travel, then a long night during which she would be doing little else but drowning in her abject anxiety. She needed a distraction, but there was nothing nearby to help.

"You're looking nervous," Ifan commented, and Lorelai jumped. She had been so preoccupied that she had not noticed him slowing to match her pace. Ifan gave her a calming smile and held up his hands peaceably. "Sorry, didn't mean to surprise you."

"No, I am…" Lorelai took a deep breath to keep her voice from shaking, and her body decided to tremble instead. Ifan gripped her arm tightly, and Lorelai took another deep breath. "I… am nervous, yes," she managed to say.

"You should be excited!" Ifan cheered with a bright laugh that worked wonders to soothe Lorelai. "Just think, you might have family!"

"Yes, indeed," Lorelai said. For some reason, everything sounded more positive when Ifan articulated it. Lorelai carefully removed his hand from her arm, and he cast her a quick glance of disappointment that instantly disappeared when she instead clutched at his hand with her own. "Perhaps Amadia… truly wishes to help," Lorelai murmured, more to herself than anything, and Ifan squeezed her hand.

"Don't get your hopes up for that," he said with a bark of laughter, "but she _is_ trying to butter you up, right? That means this should be good news."

"Yes," Lorelai said. "Good news." She took a third deep breath, this one far less shaky than the others, and nodded briskly. "Yes," she repeated, then smiled. "And it might be cathartic to speak with a proper clan of elves again."

Ifan was smiling back, but his expression slowly dropped into something far more pensive, troubled. Lorelai was about to inquire on the change when Ifan abruptly dropped her hand, gave Lorelai an awkward nod, and essentially ran away to stand near Fane at the front of the group. Lorelai watched him in bafflement for a few seconds, but he did not turn around even once.

After Lorelai reclaimed her wits, she bit her lip uncertainly. "Sebille, I need your opinion," Lorelai called out. Sebille paused so that she was lagging beside Lorelai and looked at her expectantly.

When Lorelai opened her mouth, however, she realized that she had nothing concrete to say, that she had only some vague emotions that were all mixing together into some sort of terrifically toxic concoction. She did not know where to start.

"Please, tell me this is not about our resident Lone Wolf," Sebille sighed, and Lorelai glanced at her in surprise before her eyes darted to Ifan to make sure he had not overheard. This offer of a specific topic, one specific set of emotions, allowed Lorelai to concentrate.

"It… is about Ifan," Lorelai confessed in a mumble, only half-lying. She felt a light blush cross her face as the Ifan-centric feelings were dragged to the forefront of her mind. Sebille gave her an exasperated glare but waved a hand for Lorelai to continue. "I… well, I very much like Ifan, and he seems to reciprocate, but…" Lorelai found herself hesitating. She did not often hesitate, as she acted with the assuredness from experience. This, however, was uncharted territory for her. "I do not know his expectations," Lorelai said briskly, "and I worry that… when I am wearing my mask, he forgets I am an Undead of four thousand years."

"Does that matter?" Sebille asked bluntly. "You have already been sleeping with Fane, correct? What is the difference?" Lorelai cast a surprised glance at Sebille, who was smirking right back. "Darling, I know _everyone's_ secrets," Sebille said coyly.

Lorelai blinked, then laughed. She noticed offhand that Ifan looked behind him when she did so, but Lorelai could not read his expression and he looked away before they made eye contact. "It is different," Lorelai told Sebille. She grinned widely at Sebille and lowered her voice. "I suppose the feelings are different," she said.

Sebille grimaced and rolled her eyes. "Darling, _please_ do not begin spouting off about love. I do not think my black heart can handle such a thing."

Lorelai giggled and shook her head. "No, not love," she assured Sebille, who breathed out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "I hardly know Ifan, after all, and that is the problem. The bloody human is shut more tightly than a barrel of Deathfog. See, I have never quite had much opportunity to _like_ someone or… fall in love, and I wonder if I am latching onto the first person I saw the moment I found the mask."

"I… do not know if I am the best person to talk to about this," Sebille said uncomfortably.

"Consider my options."

Sebille surveyed the others for a moment, smirked, then nodded. "Always flattered to be the last resort," she drawled, but she considered Lorelai thoughtfully the next moment. "The way I see it," Sebille said slowly, "you, darling, have the nasty habit of latching onto _anyone_ you see. Since, then, you feel… _differently_ towards the self-righteous tormented mercenary"—Lorelai had to stifle a laugh—"then I would guess you are honestly… feeling."

Lorelai hummed as she considered Sebille's words, and she felt another blush rise on her face when she realized the implications. "I see," Lorelai managed to say as her mind filled with thoughts of how Ifan's eyes tended to change whenever he looked at her.

Sebille sighed heavily and gave Lorelai an exasperated glare. "Darling. I have grown fond of you, so allow me to give you some advice: Before you truly give anyone a piece of your heart, make _certain_ it will be cherished."

"Yes," Lorelai murmured, some of her eagerness fading into worry.

"Perhaps I am wrong," Sebille continued, "but you strike me as one to devote yourself completely to the person of your choosing. Do not settle for anything less than full reciprocation." Sebille gave Lorelai an intense stare. "Do you understand?" she asked.

Lorelai nodded and clasped both hands in front of her chest. "Thank you, dear one," she said warmly. "I understand."

Sebille offered a curt nod and casually gestured ahead to Ifan. "If you truly wish to get something out of… that," she said with unconcealed disdain towards the mercenary, "you must act soon. We both know how quickly humans die."

Lorelai blanched, her heart growing heavy at the thought of Ifan—or any of her friends—dying.

Sebille noticed Lorelai's expression and raised a brow. "You don't have to dwell on everyone's mortality," Sebille said dryly, "but I thought I should mention it."

"And I thank you," Lorelai replied. "I believe I shall take your advice."

"Smart choice." Sebille looked around and smirked. "Unfortunately for you, darling, it's about time to make camp. No chance to speak to your dearest love alone."

Lorelai snorted out a laugh but nodded. "Indeed. It seems the luck you gave me may have run out."

"If my luck does not apply," Sebille said, "then perhaps that course of action should be avoided."

"Sebille, you are very contradictory," Lorelai said in exasperation. "Do you approve of Ifan and me or not?"

"I do not approve," Sebille replied airily, "but I have just enough faith in your judgement to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"I shall take that as a compliment and your blessing," Lorelai decided, and she answered Sebille's withering stare with a smile. "We ought to make camp before it grows too dark," Lorelai called to the others before Sebille could retort properly.

Fane sighed but paused, and Ifan trotted to Lorelai the moment she spoke. He spared Sebille not a glance, keeping his warm gaze locked on Lorelai. Noticing this, Sebille tossed Lorelai a mocking salute and moved away to set up a campfire.

"I think it was a good first day in the Reaper's Coast," Ifan said to Lorelai, his eyes twinkling with humor. "Nearly arrested, hiding in a crime den, and camping in the wilderness? Dream of dreams, eh?"

"I especially enjoyed our time together in the crime den," Lorelai quipped, causing Ifan to blink rapidly, glance away, and smile.

"Like I said," Ifan replied in a murmur, "a good day."

"Should we talk about what exactly happened?" Lorelai asked carefully.

Ifan scratched his head and eyed Sebille, who was likely still in earshot. "Later," he said quietly, "but, yes, I'd… I'd like to talk about it. Us."

"Mm. Good," Lorelai said with satisfaction. She gave Ifan a gentle pat on the cheek and went to Sebille. She held her hands over the blossoming flames, smiling at the warmth permeating through her palms.

"Oh, Lorelai, I almost forgot," Fane said from across the flames. He rifled through his bag momentarily before fishing out a thick book. He waved it towards Lorelai, so she circled the campfire to take it from him.

"_An Encyclopedia of the Most Influential Necromancers of Our Time,_" Lorelai read the title. "Ooh," she gasped. "I have never read this one!"

Ifan and Sebille both craned their heads over Lorelai's shoulders to gaze at the book. "Why such excitement, darling?" Sebille inquired while Lorelai eagerly thumbed through the pages.

"I have been trying to determine the accuracies of your necromancers," Fane said, and Lorelai glanced to him. "I thought you might be able to help in that regard."

"Oh, interested in my kind, are we?" Lorelai laughed. "I am flattered, dear one."

"Yes, somewhat," Fane replied, "but mostly interested in human bias against the general concept of Undead creatures."

"I can absolutely help in that regard," Lorelai stated. "I could easily find necromancers I know and fact-check. That could be a quaint evening exercise, yes?"

"Sounds interesting," Ifan acknowledged, and Sebille nodded her agreement. Ifan sat down on Lorelai's left, Sebille at her right, and Fane remained slightly farther, his own notebook out and ready.

Lorelai flipped pages of the book with a hum of concentration, searching for recognizable names. "Aha," she murmured, tapping a bony finger against an entry. "Mortis the Manic," she began. Lorelai snickered in anticipation and continued the entry:

_'Mortis the Manic was notorious for murdering anyone who knew his real name. Thus, he protected himself against anyone who would use his true name to gain power over him. Even now, all evidence of Mortis' name has been carefully erased.'_

"First of all, his real name was Tavernus," Lorelai said derisively. "We bullied him into telling the story: He was born behind a tavern and his parents were unimaginative."

"At least he was intelligent enough to try to hide his true name," Fane offered, and Lorelai giggled.

"Hardly," she said. "It was pure embarrassment on his part."

"With good reason," Ifan laughed, and Lorelai nodded furiously. She returned to the book.

_'Mortis gained his moniker from his frequent fits of anger that usually resulted in the complete annihilation of one of his living or Undead subjects. It is rumored that Mortis even murdered his parents and resurrected them for the sole purpose of killing them again.'_

"That bit is true," Lorelai acknowledged. "It does not mention, however, that he hated his parents so passionately because of how they named him."

"Fits of anger that resulted in him annihilating Undead?" Ifan quoted. "Sounds dangerous."

"He was terribly insecure, and he sought constant validation from his life story," Lorelai explained. "Those who did not oblige were often killed." She snickered. "Divines, we used to call him Mortis the Mucker or Tavernus the Tosser. If we insulted him enough, he would boast about his achievements and life, inadvertently giving us even more ammunition against him. We might have tormented him even more than he tormented us."

"We?"

"The other imprisoned Undead and I," she replied. "He was very easy to provoke. That either led him to disintegrate someone, or to make a mistake that allowed one of us to escape."

"Fun," Sebille drawled. Lorelai nodded and continued the book.

_'Mortis the Manic was eventually killed by an escaped lich who drained the necromancer of all Source and left him an empty husk. The lich responsible was captured and killed a decade later by Shirana (see page 171, Shirana).'_

"Oh, I did not know that Richard had died," Lorelai lamented. "He was the one who freed us all—a strange creature, but a wonderful sense of humor."

"Are you implying that the lich was named… Richard?" Fane asked carefully, and Lorelai nodded.

"Obviously, that was not his true name," Lorelai said. "And, again, he had a grand sense of humor." Lorelai skimmed the rest of passage, but it was only boring facts about the man's experiments and discoveries. She turned a few pages until she found another name that she recognized. "The Lady Echo of the Evening Breeze," Lorelai read.

"That's quite the name," Ifan chimed in.

"Mmhm, let us see if the author managed to analyze her personality correctly, shall we?" Lorelai chuckled and smoothed out the pages.

_'The Lady Echo of the Evening Breeze—born, Marcy of Verdistis—was well-known for her eccentricity, which is best exemplified by her chosen name. She reportedly danced through the streets of Verdistis nearly every evening while wearing a ballroom gown, usually accompanied by a skeletal animal similarly dressed. The Lady Echo of the Evening Breeze was undoubtedly mad, but her experiments revealed many important ties between auditory resonance and bone composition.'_

Lorelai paused and reread that sentence. "Auditory resonance and bone composition," she repeated aloud, amused. "That, my friends, is a sophisticated way of saying that she used Undead as instruments in her homemade orchestra."

"What…?" Ifan asked.

"The Lady Echo of the Evening Breeze would tap different Undead's bones with sticks and blow wind through our eyes and the like to make different whistling noises," Lorelai explained.

"For… what purpose?" Fane inquired, just as baffled as the others, and Lorelai shrugged.

"As the author says, she was undoubtedly mad," she replied. When no one contested that, Lorelai turned back to the book.

_'The Lady Echo of the Evening Breeze attempted to host musical performances with sentient Undead as instruments, but she was—shockingly—never hired as an entertainer. The Lady Echo of the Evening Breeze was, on the other hand, a successful seamstress. She was rumored to be especially skilled at making beautiful coverings for Undead trying to hide themselves among the living.'_

"That is how I met her," Lorelai explained. "I had heard rumors of a seamstress who welcomed Undead clients, and I was utterly delighted to find that to be true. She made the most stunning and clever wrappings—expensive, but worth it."

"Are all necromancers… touched in the head?" Sebille asked.

"As far as I know, yes," Lorelai stated. "Now, enough about The Lady Echo…" Lorelai murmured. "Maudlin Maude," she read. "Oh, dear."

_'Maude of the Old Islands, better known as 'Maudlin Maude,' is a figure shrouded—no pun intended—in mystery. Little is known about her personally, but rumors say she is an Undead from the Empire existing nearly ten thousand years ago.'_

Lorelai paused and skimmed a few more paragraphs, murmuring the words under her breath with a frown. "The author of this book believes the rumors to be nonsense," Lorelai said disapprovingly, "because Maude has flesh. The imps have the technology to make animatronic skeletons or suits of dead flesh for appearance's sake. Everything the author says about Maude is utter nonsense," she snorted. "To be fair, I have never met her myself, but…" Lorelai shook her head and flipped a few more pages. After a moment, she gasped. "Mazirel Dekk of the House of War," she read. Lorelai nodded to Sebille. "This was the lizard who dismembered me," she said. Sebille grinned savagely while Ifan looked alarmed. "I wonder if it says anything about me," she murmured, skimming the paragraphs for a mention of his death. "Aha!" she cried soon enough.

_'Mazirel Dekk spent the last year of his life boasting of his latest experiment. He had managed to capture an Undead of four thousand years who could regenerate bone at will. Mazirel invited many to see this Undead, and sources say that the creature was remarkably forthcoming. It professed to be the work of Dominik of Silverleaf (see page 115, Dominik of Silverleaf Forest)._

_The fatal mistake of Mazirel Dekk was…'_

Lorelai trailed off and laughed nervously. "This goes into more detail than I expected," she said. "Let us go back to The Lady Echo of the Evening Breeze."

Lorelai made to turn the pages of the book, but Ifan plucked it from her hands. "Some of your secrets are revealed, eh?" he laughed. He smirked playfully at her and began to read where Lorelai had left off:

_'The fatal mistake of Mazirel Dekk was his gullible assurance that the Undead was a docile creature. Mazirel Dekk grew complacent, and the Undead managed to escape. Mazirel Dekk was discovered two weeks later in a highly disturbing state, though still alive._

_Witnesses described the scene as gruesome butchery. Mazirel Dekk's arms and legs had been removed and displayed carefully around his workshop. Mazirel himself was nothing but a torso and head, his wounds violently cauterized to prevent him from bleeding out. Most of his scales were melted off, his tongue was cut, and his eyes were crushed into the sockets. Most assume that Mazirel Dekk was awake during this torture._

_Mazirel Dekk managed to survive for three years afterwards under the reluctant care of his sister until he eventually died of self-starvation._

_The Undead responsible is likely still at large and considered severely dangerous. The creature has been sighted on other occasions, recognizable by its charred bones and distinctive tattoos. Approach it at your own risk.'_

There was a long silence during which Lorelai shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh… wow," Ifan managed. He looked as though he now realized that this was more serious than he had originally thought. "All right."

"I did not expect such detail, else I would not have begun the entry," Lorelai said quickly. "All I can say is that I was… ehm, quite upset at the time."

"He dismembered you, so you returned the favor," Sebille said airily. "That sounds perfectly fair."

"Mm," Lorelai murmured, but she did not feel up to rehashing this conversation. "Now, that entry mentioned Dominik, correct?" she cheerfully changed the subject. "Page one hundred fifteen?" She took the book from Ifan's hands and flipped pages until she found it. "Dominik of Silverleaf Forest," she began.

_'Dominik of Silverleaf Forest was active before the time frame on which this book focuses, but he deserves a mention due to his indirect involvement with the death of Mazirel Dekk (see page 71, Mazirel Dekk of the House of War). Little is known about Dominik of Silverleaf Forest, since he was reclusive and never officially published. The source of most of this information is his violent Undead who brutally tortured at least one necromancer.'_

"Bloody divines, why must they focus on that one incident?" Lorelai muttered. "No one seems to care that most of these necromancers tortured people and various Undead creatures to death on a regular basis." She huffed and continued reading.

_'As a young boy, Dominik was said to be withdrawn yet frightfully intelligent, gifted with a near-perfect memory. He became known as 'the Child of Death' since he reportedly began practicing necromancy at the tender age of eleven, shortly after both of his parents died. Dominik occupied an abandoned cabin deep within Silverleaf Forest, and it was mysteriously unreachable for the nearby townsfolk in Silverleaf Village._

_Dominik only reappeared a decade later, visiting the town on occasion with a suspiciously hooded creature following. Eyewitnesses report that the creature was a horrific, misshapen thing that screeched gibberish and terrorized the local children. This was likely his Undead._

_It is unknown when, where, or even if Dominik of Silverleaf Forest died. His cabin became reachable one day, perfectly clean and abandoned with no sign of any occupants. His body has not been found, and his Undead is likely still at large.'_

"Hm, that was a short entry," Lorelai grumbled. "Everyone else had long, boring pages about their many successful experiments and the like, but not Dominik." Lorelai sighed and stared at the inked pages. "Though… I suppose he never did share his findings," she mumbled, mostly to herself.

"What was all that about the horrible, misshapen thing that screeched gibberish and terrorized the local children?" Sebille asked with a crafty smile.

Lorelai giggled. "Well, a tall, skinny form in a bulky robe would have looked quite frightening, yes? I spoke in Elven in public most of the time, so I suppose that is the gibberish to which they referred. As for terrorizing children… I do remember speaking with the children on occasion until their parents shooed me away or threw rocks."

"Imbeciles," Fane muttered.

"In this case, I may be inclined to agree with you," Lorelai admitted. Lorelai regarded the book for a moment. "One more," she decided, "and that shall be all for tonight."

"Any more skeletons in the closet, darling?" Sebille asked coyly.

"Not as many as the necromancers," Lorelai shot back with a laugh.

"Sure you didn't maul anyone else?" Ifan asked dryly. There was a hint of challenge in his tone that exceeded simple ribbing.

Lorelai stilled, unnaturally so, and slowly shut the book. She held Ifan's gaze silently for a moment before she rose to her feet. "Ifan," she said quietly, unable to keep a low growl from her voice, "in the many years before and after I died, I have, in fact, acted rashly on occasion."

Ifan opened his mouth as though to speak, but Lorelai did not give him the chance.

"None of you can understand the reverence with which I treat my bones, the amount of personal history and misery recorded on the surface of my body, or the years of work by myself and others to manufacture my specific bone composition," she rumbled dangerously. "Can you comprehend the utter violation of witnessing something you hold so dear be torn apart and studied with such dispassion, such selfishness? Do you know the terror of being held immobile while you watch your own body be tampered with by someone who considers you nothing but an object, an inferior monster?" Lorelai shook her head, biting back pure rage. "A similar incident killed me so long ago, and I was frightened, angry, and vengeful," Lorelai snapped. "Do _not_ judge me for that."

In the awkward silence that followed, Lorelai snapped her fingers, materializing Bunny.

"Stay with them," Lorelai ordered Bunny briskly. Bunny hissed her acknowledgement and curled up with a large yawn. Lorelai spun on a heel and stormed off into the forest. She needed to cool down before someone got hurt.


End file.
